


Those Who Bear the Shield

by EarendilElwing



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Cosplay, Family Fluff, Getting Together, H50 Big Bang 2017, Idiots in Love, Loss/Grief, M/M, Medical Summary of Torture after the fact, Mutual Pining, PTSD, Physical Torture, briefly implied major character death, discussion of autopsy results, mcdanno, some minor references to events in Season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-17 15:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarendilElwing/pseuds/EarendilElwing
Summary: Steve is not thrilled when Danny convinces the Five-0 team to dress up as Captain America characters for a group of sick children to enact a play; the whole process begins to brings out the complicated feelings Steve has for his partner and begins to affect their already strained friendship. To make matters worse, their attempt at charity and fun is marred when Danny is abducted by a mercenary looking for information regarding one of Steve’s past SEAL missions. Can Five-0 rescue Danny in time, or must Steve allow his dearest friend to die in the name of national security?





	1. Captain America

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to extend an extra special thank you to [OnlyHim](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyHim/pseuds/OnlyHim) and [emeraldteal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldteal) for beta reading this massive project (I couldn't have done this without your corrections and encouragement! 
> 
> The [amazing artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10527357) was done by the wonderful Ms.Three. 
> 
> Please see the end of the story for links to their Tumblr pages.

Steve McGarrett never took long showers.

He had never possessed a need for them, even at an early age.  His Navy training further engraved in him the inefficiency of spending more than three minutes under the spray, no matter the temperature.  That was all the time that was needed to wash up, and anything beyond that was a pointless frivolity.  

But today, Steve stood there, bent and unmoving for a whole ten minutes, with the water cranked up as hot as it would go.  It hurt at first, but he forced himself to wait until his body had adjusted – all in the hopes that the scalding heat would burn away the last remnants of guilt and loneliness regarding the day’s upcoming event, along with the sweat and dirt from his morning run.

It did nothing for his melancholy, but he supposed it did ease the tension in his neck and shoulders.  Maybe his partner had a point about taking one’s time with their daily ablutions.

He uncurled his body and shut off the water, as well as any further contemplation on the matter.  He had a job to complete, and his assistant for the task would arrive any minute.  It would not do for him to walk in and find a half-drowned SEAL.

After drying off, he dressed himself in clean sweats, knowing that he would be changing again in short order.  In fact, as soon as he headed downstairs for breakfast, there was a knock at the front door.  Steve detoured to answer.

He swung the door inward to reveal Doctor Max Bergman, holding two slate grey garment bags in his arms.  Max inclined his head in greeting.  “Good morning, Commander McGarrett.  I have come to drop off your costume, as requested, and to make sure that everything still fits properly.”

“Thanks, Max.”  Steve mustered a small smile and stepped back to allow the Five-0 medical examiner entrance to his home.  “Come on in.  I was just about to make some coffee.  You want a cup?”

Max followed Steve into the living room and draped the bags over the back of the couch.  “Very gracious of you, but no.  I would prefer it if you could just try this on right away, as I must still take the other to Lieutenant Kelly.  I am a little concerned that the pants for his outfit may yet be too short.  Adjusting for the height difference between him and Detective Williams was not as straightforward as I had previously predicted.”

That statement wiped the friendly expression from Steve’s lips.  He reached for the bag that was tagged with his name.  “Oh, right.  Okay, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Rather than going up to his bedroom, Steve opted to change in the downstairs bathroom for the fitting.  He closed the door for privacy and hung the garment bag on the hook behind the door.

He glared at it and sighed, wishing he could find it within himself to be more excited.  But in spite of his reluctance, he unzipped the bag to reveal a blue polyester and polyurethane uniform, decorated with a highly recognizable stars-and-stripes motif.  He rolled his eyes at the cartoonish element of it, but it was too late to try and find a better quality replacement.

He stripped out of the sweats, leaving only his boxers and an undershirt, and tugged on the form fitting costume.

He emerged from the bathroom a moment later, absently adjusting the fabric around his forearms so that it wouldn’t bunch up around his elbows.  If he was going to portray this character with any sort of enthusiasm, he couldn’t have the material restricting his movements.

Max grinned and bounced on his feet in that twitchy, bird-like way of his.  “Ah, very nice!  I must say, Commander, this look really suits you.  Pun intended.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Steve stood in front of Max and allowed him to inspect the finished product.

“Why so glum?  I’ve often thought that you embody many of Captain America’s best traits, including bravery, a sense of honor, and loyalty.”  Max circled him and soothed a few creases in the fabric stretched across his back.  “I am certain everyone who knows you is in agreement.”      

Steve grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Max’s observation.  He just wanted to get this whole day over with.

“Everything seems to be in order,” Max declared.  He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and began to text.  “Unless you have any other concerns, I will leave you to make your coffee and finish any final preparations for this afternoon.  All I ask is that you do your best not to damage or stain the costume.”

“Roger that.”  Steve’s gaze fell on the second garment bag.  

Max glanced up from his message app.  “Oh - Commander, would you mind taking a look at that one before I leave?”

“Max, I-”

“I would like your opinion on the adjustments,” the M.E. interrupted.

Steve blew out a heavy breath.  Then he stretched the bag across the couch cushions and opened it with even more hesitation than he had his own.  He pushed back the sides and tried, unsuccessfully, to stamp down the heartache associated with this ensemble as he lifted it from its protective covering.

Unlike his guise, the top half of this one was made of faux black leather – save for the left arm, which was silver instead.  The bottom consisted of a simplistic pair of black combat-style pants.  

Per the team’s last minute arrangements, the Winter Soldier costume had been altered from its original state to accommodate Chin’s taller stature.  Steve had no qualms about his old friend filling in, but the modified suit was yet another painful reminder of recent events, and of the mistakes he’d made that rendered Danny unable to fulfill the role.

He threw it back down on the couch, startling Max with the forceful movement.  “I-Is something wrong, Commander?”

Steve counted silently and took several deep breaths.  After he had sufficiently calmed himself, he shook his head.  “No.  No, Max.  You and Jerry did a great job getting these together.  It’s just…”  He bowed his head and scrubbed a hand over his face.  “Danny should be the one wearing that.”

“I am certain Lieutenant Kelly is more than prepared for this role.”

Steve crossed his arms and moved away from his colleague to pace.  “I know he is; that’s not what I meant.”

Max put away his phone and placed the costume back into its garment bag.  Once he had finished, he slung it over his shoulder in preparation to depart the McGarrett residence.  “Commander… Steve, I do not know what is going through your head, nor will I presume to understand how you feel.  What I DO know is that this was very important to Detective Williams, and he would be most disappointed with us if we did not complete this production to the best of our abilities.”  

Steven McGarrett chuckled, but there was no humor behind it.  “Yeah.  The show must go on, right?”

“Precisely.”  The corners of his mouth twitched, but there was no accompanying crinkle to the medical examiner’s eyes.

* * *

  _3 Months Ago_

“Yo, Danny!”

Steve pounded on the front door of his partner’s house.  When he received no immediate answer, he used his key to unlock the entrance and let himself in.

“Danny?  You decent?”

He knew that his friend was awake; they’d traded a couple of texts no more than ten minutes ago, yet the place was strangely quiet for the Williams’ residence.  Seeing no sign of him in the living room, Steve strolled into the kitchen, following the scent of freshly brewed coffee.  He helped himself to a large mug of caffeinated heaven, supplemented with a heaping dose of butter, and called out again.

“Danno!  Come on, let’s go buddy!  We got that meeting with the governor in an hour.  Time’s wasting pal!”

There was still no response.

Besides the coffee, there were other indicators that Danny should be around.  His wallet, keys, gun and holster were set out and ready on the kitchen table, along with an open satchel with some old case files sticking out of it.

Steve raised his eyes from the task of stirring his concoction, his senses jumping into high alert at the unnatural stillness.  He left his cup on the counter and headed towards the bedrooms, his hand drifting to touch the handle of his firearm.  Instinct took over, his gait switching from a smooth swagger into soundless steps, and the rest of his body was tense and poised like a cat about to pounce.

“Danny?  You here?”

A brief glance through open doors cleared Grace and Charlie’s bedrooms, a small office and a bathroom; there were no indications of foul play in any of them.  All that was left was the master bedroom.  

Steve stalked over to Danny’s bedroom door.  He released the snap on his gun’s safety strap and reached for the doorknob.  

Before he could touch it, the knob turned, and the door swung towards him at high speed.  Danny almost collided with him, but jumped at the unexpected intrusion and stepped back just in time, his free hand flying to touch his chest.  Steve did the same.

“Jesus, McGarrett!  You trying to give me a heart attack?”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief and rolled his eyes.  “No, Danny.  If you were going to die of a heart attack, it would be from all those malasadas you eat, not me.  Why didn’t you answer when I called?”

Danny pushed past him, waving what appeared to be a workbook and a novel in the air.  “I was reading; guess I just didn’t hear you.”

Steve followed his partner back to the kitchen.  “Reading?  Seriously, Danno?”

Danny shot him an annoyed glance and shoved both books into the satchel.  He buckled it closed before Steve was able to see the titles and went to fix a cup of coffee for himself.  “Yes, Steven – reading.  It’s something people do to expand their horizons --”

“You hate expanding your horizons,” Steve noted.

“-- or for information,” Danny rambled as though Steve hadn’t said anything.  “Or just to escape reality for awhile; you know, go on a whimsical journey…”

“I’m sorry, did you just use the phrase _‘whimsical journey’_?” Steve snorted.  He retrieved his previously abandoned mug and sat down at the table.  

Danny leaned back against the counter.  “Fantasy, sci-fi, horror – whatever,” he retorted, gesturing with both hands (Steve was impressed that he didn’t spill a drop of his coffee in the process).  “The point is, reading is something people, including myself, believe it or not, do on occasion for various reasons, and I was too preoccupied to hear you calling me.”

“Huh,” Steve mused.  He reached for the bag.  “So what was it that had you too entranced to notice someone breaking into your house?”

Daniel lunged and snatched it away before the SEAL could open it.  “Nothing that would interest you.”

Steve’s hand hovered over the spot previously occupied by the satchel.  He withdrew it and picked up his coffee.  “And how do you know without asking me, Danno?”

Danny pointed at his temple.  “I can read your mind, remember?” he grumbled, though with far less enthusiasm as their previous banter.

He checked the clock hanging over the sink.  “Anyway, we’d better hurry and finish our coffee, or we’ll be late.”

Steve’s grip around his mug tightened.  Something had been off about his partner for a while now, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.  Furthermore, any attempt on his part to broach the question of why had thus far met with failure.  Danny might be the most talkative and opinionated member of their Ohana, but he also kept a great deal locked inside, able to deflect or derail a conversation enough to escape getting to the core of the matter.

It was really quite unfair.  Whenever Steve was having problems, Danny would interrogate, annoy, coerce or otherwise guilt him into a confession.  Then again, Danny was a detective; that’s what he’d been trained to do, and he’d honed those skills to such a degree that few could resist.  Steve, as an ex-Navy SEAL, was used to beating or scaring the truth out of his targets, which he obviously couldn’t do to his friend.  Therefore, his best course of action would be to wait and observe, to gather evidence and remain in standby mode until the right opportunity came along.

Danny gulped down his coffee and set his empty cup in the sink.  “You ready to go?”

Steve copied him and snagged the car keys away when Danny made a move for them.

Danny stuck out his lower lip in a pout, but didn’t go off on his usual rant about the driving arrangements.  Instead, he fixed his badge and gun to his belt, gathered up the rest of his things and headed for the front door.  He locked it behind them.

When they got into the Camaro, Danny asked him, “By the way, do you know what this meeting is about?”

Steve shook his head and adjusted the seat back.  “No idea, but it’s not supposed to take long, so it can’t be anything too bad.”

Danny buckled in and tugged on the seat belt to make sure it was snug.  “Somehow I doubt that, but I guess one can hope.”

“Remember the power of positive thinking, Daniel.”  Steve grinned at his friend’s glower and gunned the engine.

* * *

Steve didn’t much care for politicians (not that he could name anyone that did).  The labyrinth of lies, money and power that was the foundation for the system had become more of a hindrance to Five-0’s ability to work their magic upon the island’s criminal element.

In the beginning, Governor Pat Jameson had given them a free pass, instructing them to uproot injustice in the state by any means necessary.  Steve’s methods under her jurisdiction might have been questionable at best, but they got the job done.

Then she’d been outed as an associate and accomplice of Wo Fat, and was replaced by Samuel Denning following her murder.  Denning was clean, but he kept a tight leash on the rogue task force, even going so far as to appoint a member without Steve’s consent.  In the end, Lori Weston had been a good, if temporary, addition, but the executive order still stung.

Now they had Governor Keiko Mahoe to contend with.  She had taken more of a middle ground approach in regards to Five-0’s authority and processes, giving them some leeway while also forcing them to justify their actions.  It could be a hassle sometimes, but Steve had learned to accept it.

Upon their arrival, Steve and Danny were ushered into her office and instructed to occupy themselves.  She was running behind, so they muted their phones and settled into the chairs in front of her desk.

They didn’t have to wait long.  Governor Mahoe burst in a few minutes after them.  Her face was red, lips pressed into a thin line, and she pulled on the hem of her black blazer with more aggression than the immaculate suit warranted.

“Gentlemen, I apologize for the delay.”

They stood out of respect until she sat down and gestured for them to do the same.

“Is everything alright, ma’am?”  Steve inquired.

Keiko Mahoe tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and reinstated her professional guard.  “A minor disagreement between myself and one of the committees – nothing that involves you.”

She smiled at them, and her entire aura transformed.  “We have a much more pleasant topic to discuss.  Detective Williams, I presume you’ve presented your plans to the Commander and the rest of the team?”

Steve looked at his partner, body tensing and brows creasing.  “What’s she talking about, Danny?”

The detective froze and adopted that deer-in-the-headlights look: eyes wide, shoulders square and muscles taut.  “Oh... um…”

Mahoe sighed and reclined in her chair.  “You haven’t told him yet.”

“Told me what?” Steve growled.

Danny jolted out of his startled paralysis and ran his fingers through his hair.  “Ah, we’ve had a busy couple of weeks.  Between those tourist serial murders and taking down that human trafficking enterprise, there wasn’t time for anything else.”

“Well, you have time now,” the governor admonished.  “You’d better go ahead and fill him in, Detective, because not only am I approving the venture, I’m making Five-0’s participation mandatory.”

Steve’s frown deepened.  “Danny…”

“Okay, okay!”  He leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees and fingers interlocked as if in prayer.  “So, you know that because of Charlie being sick, I spent a lot of time at the children’s hospital.  While I was there, I saw firsthand how tough those kids have it.  They’re so frail, either from whatever they got or from the treatments they need.  Most of them practically live there, and unless they get better, like Charlie did, they don’t get out much.  Aside from movies and video games, they don’t get to have fun and just do kid stuff.”

Steve relaxed and softened at the first mention of Charlie.  The poor little guy had needed a bone marrow transplant from Danny in order to combat his illness, and the ordeal had left both father and son physically and emotionally drained.

Danny sat up again and met Steve’s gaze.  “It’s just not right, those kids being sick and bored.  I felt like I wanted to do something, you know?  Help out in some way.  One day, I mentioned that to one of the nurses, and she told me about the Allegra Noelani Foundation.”

“Allegra Noelani Foundation?” Steve repeated.

“A volunteer organization,” the governor chimed in.  “Named in memory of a young girl who died of leukemia; you can look it up later.  Essentially, the members sponsor or put on events and group activities for the children right there at the hospital.  A few months ago, they raised funds for supplies and set up a painting class with a local artist.  Another time, they brought in a bunch of science professors to give kid-friendly lectures with fun, hands-on experiments.”

Steve nodded and crossed his arms.  “That sounds great, but what’s it got to do with Five-0?”

“Well, ah…”  Danny fidgeted and picked at his shirt.  “The kids usually vote on what they wanna do, and this time, they decided they wanted to put on a play.”  He let out a little laugh.  “They went with a superhero theme.  With all the new movies coming out over the next few years, it's a popular trend.  They wanna see their favorite heroes beat up bad guys, and have the chance to interact with them, like they would if they could go to a theme park.

“Shortly after the foundation approved, I went along to make the announcement to the kids, and give out project assignments.  The children are going to write scripts, make a stage set, and pick actors for all the parts.”

Steve caught the impish look in Danny’s bright eyes, and had the sudden urge to hide.

“One day, I was talking to one of the boys who’s working on a script, and I had Charlie with me.  They started talking about potential actors, and Charlie told him that his Uncle Steve was just like Captain America because he’s so tall and strong and he fights real life bad guys.”

Steve’s chest swelled with affection for the boy, and he had to smile, even as Danny snorted in derision.

“Then I told him that _everyone_ I work with are like superheroes, because they’re all amazing and they work as a team to arrest villains.  Once they heard that, some of the older kids, and their parents, suggested that I ask Five-0 to help out, by being the stars of the play.”

It didn’t take the SEAL long to figure out where this was headed.  “And you said yes?” he concluded.

“Not exactly,” Danny countered.  “I said I would talk to you guys about it, but I didn’t promise anything.”

He slouched, shoulders curled and head dropped to his chest.  “Something I didn’t mention before is that the Allegra Noelani Foundation does a lot of fundraising to cover the expenses of these events, but also to provide financial assistance for families struggling with medical bills.  Recently, there have been more and more of them needing the cash, so as of right now, we don’t have much to allocate for the event.  And I thought - um…”

Governor Mahoe took over for him.  “Last year, the Five-0 task force managed to stay under its budget, and - in the event that it might be needed, given your history of property damage and weapons expenses - the extra funds were transferred to a flex account, to be used for emergencies.”

“Wait, really?” Steve gaped at his superior.  “How come I wasn’t told that?”

“You were,” she assured him.  “It was outlined in last year’s fourth quarter financial report, which I now know you didn’t bother to read.”

“I read it,” Steve mumbled, shrinking under her hard stare.  Danny traded a long-suffering look with Mahoe.

“At any rate, Detective Williams put in a request to use a small amount from the account to purchase materials for the production, and I’ve approved it.”

She folded her hands on the desk.  “Additionally, after hearing Williams’s proposal, I’ve decided that Five-0 WILL participate in the project.  The group’s impressive arrest rate notwithstanding, there has been enough negative publicity to generate opponents that would see the task force disbanded.  But perhaps, by engaging in community service projects such as this, you will prove to them that Five-0 is capable of doing more than killing suspects and blowing things up.”

Steve ground his teeth, unsure of where to even begin to refute that statement.  Sure, they had a high kill rate compared to most of the other law enforcement agencies on the islands, but there was no question that crime had gone down because of their efforts.  That should be enough for “community service.”  And yeah, there was collateral damage on occasion, but it was the criminals who caused it, not them.  They had nothing to apologize for.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t given the opportunity to counter any of it.  The governor’s phone rang, and she held up a hand to mute further comments.

“Governor Mahoe,” she answered.

Steve leaned towards Danny and motioned for him to come closer.  “You and I are gonna have a serious talk about this later,” he hissed.

The Jersey detective was red around the collar, but other than that, seemed nonplussed by the whole affair.

“That was Sergeant Lukela.  There’s been a homicide in Makiki Heights that he’d like Five-0 to investigate.  Your team will meet you there.”

“On it,” Steve said.  Both men stood to let themselves out.

“Oh, and Detective Williams?  Please keep me in the loop regarding this project.  I’ll be looking forward to seeing the results,” she said with a smile.

Danny nodded, but avoided Steve’s furious glare.

* * *

 The silence in the vehicle prevailed for all of two minutes.

“You went over my head,” Steve accused.

Danny, who had seemed content to sit and stare out the window, had the audacity to shrug.  “I can understand why you might think that.”

“You can understand…” Steve started, rounding on his friend, “You volunteered Five-0 for a pet project without asking me!”

“Pet Project?” Danny repeated, lip curling as he spat the words.  “It’s a community outreach program for sick kids!  What, you got something against terminally ill children?”

“No, of course not!” Steve retorted.

“Then what’s your problem?”

Steve tightened his grip on the steering wheel.  “My problem, Daniel, is that A - you never told me you were volunteering at the children’s hospital and B - you didn’t run this by me first.”

“Maybe I thought you’d say no.”

“Why would I say no to something like this?”

“Why?”  Danny scowled at him.  “Oh, I don’t know.  Maybe because it was _my_ idea, that’s why!”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you ALWAYS dismiss my input, Mr. Benevolent Dictator!” Danny shouted, hands flying as fast as his mouth.  “You never agree to my suggestions; you never listen to me-”

“I listen to you!”

“You brush off my concerns like they don’t mean anything.  Hell, you never even let me decide what we’re going to do when we hang out or where we’re going to eat!  You won’t let me drive my own freakin’ car ninety-nine percent of the time!”

Steve was going to get whiplash from how rapidly his neck craned back and forth from facing the road to his enraged partner.  “Oh, so this is about you and me?”

“No, it’s not!  I – don’t try to turn this on me!”  He took a quick breath and huffed it out.  “Okay, look - ignore all that other junk.  In spite of what I just said, this isn’t what you think.  The reason I went to the governor first is because she’s the one who approves our budget, and, like she said, I wanted to ask her about using some of the extra funds for supplies.  I didn’t know she was going to make it an executive order.”  

Danny crossed his arms and slid down in his seat.  “I actually had a whole presentation planned for you and the others to make my case; I wouldn’t have forced you guys to do anything you didn’t want to.”

Steve digested that for several awkward minutes.  “Okay,” he murmured.

He sensed Danny’s eyes on him, but he refused to look at him yet.  Truthfully, he wasn’t that upset about the program itself, and Danny likely knew that.  He’d conveniently skimmed over “Part A” of the argument, and blurted out a great deal of other stuff that really had little, if anything, to do with the volunteer work.  But since they were on their way to a crime scene, they didn’t have time to hash out the real meaning behind his words.

“So are we good?”

Steve sighed and stowed away the excess energy for consideration later.  “Yeah, for now.”

They didn’t speak again until they reached the crime scene.  It turned out to be a two story mansion, complete with a locked gated entrance, an immaculate lawn, and a driveway that circled around a decorative fountain to reach the front door.  It would have been a lovely view, if not for the red and blue lights dancing across the home.

Steve parked the Camaro behind the medical examiner’s van.  Two of their other team members, Chin Ho Kelly and Abby Dunn, met them at the door.

“Hey Chin.  What are we looking at?” Steve asked.  

“The house belongs to Staff Sergeant Ethan Meier and his wife, Kalia Meier.  Presumably, the body is that of Mrs. Meier, but Max hasn’t made a positive identification yet.  Some delivery men from a local store found her; they were given a temporary code for the alarm and told where a spare key was hidden so that they could enter the premises and install some new appliances.”

Abby consulted her notes.  “Ethan Meier is a doctor at Tripler Army Medical Center, and his co-workers said that he’s been there for the last two days.  He had to cover for one of his colleagues who’s out because of a family emergency.  Lou and Kono are headed over there now.”

“Good.  You two go ahead and start gathering more background information.  Danny and I will check in with Max.”

The four of them entered the residence and split up to look around.  Chin and Abby went off to help the crime scene unit search for evidence, and a uniformed officer escorted Steve and Danny to a study room near the rear of the house.

They found the victim lying prone on an expensive yet tacky red and gold carpet, but except for the body and the technicians wandering around, nothing about the space itself jumped out at Steve.  There was no blood on the ground, no damaged or overturned furniture and no objects that appeared out of place.

“Yo!  Uncle D!”

Eric Russo, Danny’s nephew and one of Five-0’s lab techs, nodded his head in greeting.  His cheerful grin and exuberant demeanor remained fixed, undeterred by their current location within a crime scene.  He held a camera in his gloved hands, and was moving around to snap photos of the victim.

“Eric.”

Kneeling next to the corpse was Doctor Bergman.  On hearing the exchange, he paused his examination of the prostrate body.  “Ah, good morning Commander, Detective.”  

“Mornin’ Max.  Did you get a positive I.D. yet?” Steve asked.

He nodded.  “I did indeed.  I’ve confirmed that this is, beyond a doubt, Mrs. Kalia Meier.  There is no definite indication as to the _cause_ of death, but I estimate the _time_ of death to be between one and three a.m.”

Danny pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pants pocket and put them on.  He crouched beside the body, his sharp eyes roving up and down.  “I don’t see any wounds.  No blood, and the clothes aren’t torn.”

“None visible on the posterior,” Max concurred, “but I’ve only just begun the initial assessment.  Mr. Russo, if you’ve finished photographing from this angle…”

“I’m good,” Eric said.

“Then, if you would be so kind as to assist me, Detective Williams…”  Together, the two of them carefully rolled the body.  As the head flopped to the side, water trickled from between the woman’s lips.  Eric hurried to take a picture.

Steve leaned over his partner to get a better look.  “Huh.  Looks like it could be drowning.”

“If there is water in the lungs, then yes; that may be our cause of death.  I will know for sure after I complete the autopsy.”  Max picked at a strand of the woman’s dark hair.  “Strange.  Her hair is damp, but her clothes and the carpet are not, as one might expect from a drowning victim.”

Steve straightened again and took another look around the area.  “There’s no water source in this room, so her body was probably moved here.  Maybe the killer redressed her as well.”

“Weird.  Why go to the trouble?” Eric mused.  “I mean, if I was gonna drown someone, I’d just leave ‘em wherever I did it, you know?”

“Could be remorse, if the killer knew her,” Steve speculated.

“I don’t think so,” Danny mumbled.  He picked up her hand and rotated it to show them the space between the thumb and forefinger on the dorsal side.  Carved into the skin there was the profile outline of a boar’s head, with the barest hint of scab formation, and tiny tributaries of dried blood around it.

“What is that?” asked Steve.

Eric bent to get a closer view, his camera clicking away.

“It would appear to be a crude depiction of _Sus scrofa_ ,” Max replied.

“It’s more than that,” Danny whispered, his voice low and tight.  “It’s a calling card.”  He dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell, snapping a photo of the woman’s wound.

Apprehension crept into Steve; his partner had grown still, cold and quiet, which he only did if he was experiencing immense grief or suppressed rage.  “What do you mean?  Does that mark mean something to you?”

“I’ve seen it once before, back in Jersey.”  Danny gently released the lifeless hand.  He looked up at Steve, his face pale.  “We need to bring in the husband right away.  He was the one being targeted; his wife was just collateral damage.”

* * *

At Danny’s urging, Steve ordered Kono and Lou to transport the Staff Sergeant to the palace and have him wait in his office.  He tried to get Danny to explain what he knew of the carving on the victim’s hand, but he declined to comment, saying he wanted to interview the husband first.  They finished up at the residence, which did not produce any useful clues that might point to a suspect, and left the others to finish their tasks.

When they got back to headquarters, Steve and Danny headed into the main area to convene with the rest of the team, though Steve caught a glimpse of Ethan Meier as they passed his office.  The doctor was seated on the couch, head bowed into his hands.  The man’s light brown hair and doctor’s scrubs were wrinkled, and his shoulders were trembling.

“Hey,” Steve greeted Kono and Lou.  “Get anything from the husband?”

“Not a whole lot,” Grover said.  “But his alibi checks out for the time of the murder.  He’s been at the hospital for the past forty-eight hours.”

“We talked to a few of his co-workers,” Kono added.  “They confirmed the alibi, but they also told us that he’s been really distracted.  They were sure something was wrong, but when anyone asked, he said it was nothing.  One of the nurses said that whenever he wasn’t with a patient, he stayed holed up in his office – which was unusual behavior for him.”

“Okay, that seems a bit suspicious,” said Steve.  “Did you pull financial and phone records?”

“Yes – his cell phone and office, as well as the wife’s.”  Kono typed some commands on the comm table and flicked the records up onto the main screen.  “Yesterday around nine a.m., Doctor Meier received a call from Kalia’s cell, which lasted about ten minutes.”  She highlighted the corresponding lines on both reports.  “After that, he started placing a lot of calls to a series of untraceable numbers.  After each one, he called his wife’s cell again, but those ones only lasted about two minutes each.”

“Could be he was putting a hit out on her,” Lou theorized.  “Untraceable numbers usually screams contract kill.”

“Except there’s nothing in his financials to back that up.”  She opened another file containing the couple’s bank statements and credit card transactions.

Steve skimmed the account summaries.  “You’d expect to see some heavy withdraws if he was looking to hire someone to kill his wife.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Kono agreed.  She folded her arms and leaned her hip on the table.  “Plus, he seemed genuinely distraught when we informed him of Kalia’s death.  My gut says he isn’t responsible for this.”

“Not directly, anyway,” Danny said.

Steve glanced at him, almost relieved to hear him speak up at last.  He’d been so quiet since finding the boar mark on Kalia, so much so that Steve had kept a close and wary eye on his uncommunicative friend throughout the long drive back.  It wasn’t like Danny to be so secretive, and it was deeply unsettling.

“What do you mean?”

Danny shoved his hands in his pockets.  “I have a hunch, but I’ll need to talk to him to confirm it.”  He turned to Steve.  “You wanna sit in?”

“Of course.  Lou, check in with Chin and Abby - see if they got anything from the neighborhood canvass.  Kono, keep digging into the couple’s background.  Let us know right away if you find anything out of the ordinary.”

“Sure thing.”

Lou and Kono separated to complete their assigned tasks, and Steve led Danny to his office for the interview.

“Staff Sergeant Meier?”

He lifted his head at the sound of the door opening and Steve’s voice, sniffed a few times, and nodded.

“I’m Commander Steve McGarrett.”  He gestured to Danny.  “This is my partner, Detective Williams.  I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Meier murmured.

Danny grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge and held it out to their guest.  “Doctor, I know that this is difficult, but we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Meier took a swig.  “I already told the other two everything I know.”

Steve leaned against his desk.  “I understand that, but we’d like you to tell _us_ now.”

The doctor sighed and stared at the floor.  “Everything was normal.  We had breakfast together the other day, like we always do when we’re both home, and then I went to work.”  He tried to glance up at Steve, but his focus kept shifting - to Danny, the floor, or other objects around the room.

“I called her a few times to check in, but e-everything seemed f-fine.”  Meier began to tear up again.  His chest heaved with the effort to maintain control over his emotions.  “B-but then your officers… t-told me she was… oh god!”  The man doubled over and erupted into choking sobs.

Steve exchanged a glance with Danny, sure that they were thinking the same things.  First, that Kono was probably right about the Staff Sergeant’s innocence in his wife’s murder, and second, he wasn’t telling them everything he knew.

Danny sat down next to the agonized husband and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, while Steve positioned one of the other chairs close to them and likewise sat.  They remained quiet and waited for the doctor to compose himself.

“I’m sorry; I’m sorry,” Meier gasped.  “I just…”

“It’s okay; take your time,” Steve encouraged him.  He snatched a box of tissues from the corner of his desk, always kept close for this exact occasion, and offered them to Meier.

It was a good ten minutes before he was calm enough to continue.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t really know much else.”  He blew his nose and disposed of the waste in the nearby garbage can.

“With all due respect, Doctor Meier, I don’t think that’s quite true,” Danny said.  He retrieved his phone and flipped through the photos until he found the one of the victim’s hand.  He showed Meier the screen.  “Do you recognize this mark?”

The color drained from Meier’s cheeks and his eyes were blown wide.  “N-no…”

“I think you do,” Danny said.  “Maybe you haven’t seen it before, but you know what it means.”

Steve held his tongue from asking questions of his own, though most of them were for his partner.  

“See, here’s what I think happened: the day started out normal, like you said, but at some point, you got a call from your wife.  Except it wasn’t your wife.”

Meier’s posture stiffened, and his hands began to shake.

Danny continued.  “The call was from a man who called himself ‘The Boar’, or some variation of it, maybe ‘Scrofa’ or ‘Bairaz’.  He told you he had abducted your wife, and that she would suffer unless you gave him something.”

“H-how did you…”

“Unfortunately, you either couldn’t get him what he asked for in time or… you refused.”

“No,” Meier wailed.  “I tried.  I tried, but I c-couldn’t!  I don’t have that kind of clearance.”

Steve leaned forward.  “What do you mean?  What did he want?”

The doctor shrugged helplessly.  “Information about some program designer or computer expert or something.  I think he was attempting to piece together his history.  He seemed to think that I treated this guy years ago, but I didn’t.”

“You’re certain?” Steve questioned.

Meier bobbed his head.  “I think my superior officer might have, back when I was serving.  I worked in the medical wards of many ships throughout my Navy career; I must have treated hundreds of soldiers, civilians and refugees, and we didn’t always keep good records on the last ones.  I can’t possibly remember one person out of so many anyway, but I’m sure I never treated anyone like this guy described.”

“What description did he give you?”

The doctor rubbed his forehead.  “Ah, he would have been a teenager at the time, a refugee from Afghanistan.  Supposedly, he was some mathematical genius.  The U.S. offered him and his family asylum in exchange for his cooperation on some government projects.  I guess he was extracted from the country and brought to the ship I was serving on, the _Sanctuary_.  But I didn’t know anything about that at the time, and if the kid was given any sort of status or special treatment, then I wouldn’t have dealt with him; he would have been seen by someone higher up.”

“And so you weren’t able to give The Boar any information,” Danny surmised.  

Meier teared up.  “No - nothing.  I tried; I called everyone I could think of, tried to cash in every favor I was owed, but…”

“And you didn’t call the police at any point,” Steve guessed.  

“No.  He said it wouldn’t make any difference if I did, but he would let her go when he had the information, provided she survived that long.”

“Okay.”  Steve stood up and went to one of the top drawers of his desk to retrieve a pen and a pad of paper.  “Sergeant Meier, I’m going to need you to write down your statement, with as much detail as possible.  We’ll need to know everything: what this man told you during each conversation, what _you_ said, who you called, anything and everything you can remember to the best of your recollection.”

Meier used some more tissues to wipe his eyes and blow his nose again.  “O-okay.  I’ll try.”

Steve handed him the paper and utensil.  “Good.  We’ll leave you alone for a while.  Can I get you anything?  Some coffee?  More water?”

“No, thank you.”

Steve turned to Danny and jerked his head at the door.  The detective squeezed Meier’s shoulder once, then followed him out.

“You’ve dealt with this perp before,” Steve deduced.  They headed back over to the smart table.  

Danny bit his lip.  “Sort of.  I didn’t learn the details until after the fact, but…”

“Hey!  Is it true?  The victim was targeted by ‘The Boar’?”

They spun around to see Jerry Ortega, their special consultant, barreling towards them and waving a tablet.

“Don’t tell me _you’ve_ heard of this guy,” Steve griped.  He didn’t mean to sound condescending, but he was starting to get annoyed at being in the dark with this case.

Jerry either didn’t notice the attitude or didn’t care.  “You mean you haven’t?”

Steve cinched his mouth shut to stop a sarcastic retort.  He saw Danny smirk out of the corner of his eye and elbowed him.

Jerry took the lack of a response as permission to continue.  “I’ve heard theories about him.  No one knows his true identity or even what he looks like, but what we DO know is that he’s an information broker.  Supposedly, you can hire him to steal any sort of Intel you want from anywhere – everything from sealed adoption records to top secret government files.  They say he can get you ANYTHING, as long as you’re willing to pay, and he finds the job interesting enough.”

He passed the tablet to Steve.  Displayed on the screen were numerous files, including videos, photos and documents – all of them labeled with some version of the boar moniker.  “The rumor is that he’s to blame for a lot of failed military operations around the world, and not just in or against the U.S.  He’s also been linked to all kinds of other major and minor cases,  things like corporate coups, Ponzi schemes, rigged elections - anything where vital information went missing and played a pivotal role in the success or failure of an event.”

Steve browsed through Jerry’s ‘evidence’.  “Now that you mention it, that does sound familiar,” he said.  “There’s plenty of hackers and thieves out there, but there’s been whispers of professionals making a career out of this for years.  I never heard any names though; I think I’d remember hearing about ‘The Boar’.”

“No surprise there,” Jerry said.  His face was alight with smug excitement, the way it usually did when he spoke of a conspiracy theory in which he had dedicated unflappable faith.  “The government won’t acknowledge his existence.  If they did, they’d have to admit that they’ve spent decades trying to apprehend him, and they’ve never even come close.”  

“Decades?”  Steve tried to keep the dubious tone to a minimum, but their consultant didn’t make it easy.  “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s not out of the realm of possibility,” Jerry argued.  “I could give you plenty of examples of unsolved cases where the criminal eluded capture or was never identified at all.”

“I’m not disputing that.  But some of these files you have here date back to the 1950’s.  If our perp is the same guy that committed these crimes, he’d have to be in his 60’s or 70’s.”

“Unless we have a Dread Pirate Roberts situation on our hands,” Danny put in.  “The original trains a new guy, retires, who later trains another guy, and so on and so on.”

Jerry poked a thick finger at the tablet.  “Just look at the pictures!  Tons of victims, both alive and dead, marked with the same scar you found on the woman this morning.  It’s a signature, dude!”

“It could also be a copycat,” Steve countered.  “If this info is out there on the web, anyone could use this M.O., including the boar carving, to throw suspicion off of them and help perpetuate an urban legend.”

Jerry crossed his arms stubbornly.  “It’s not an urban legend, _brah_!  The Boar is real!”

Danny took a step closer to the theorist.  “Sadly, I’m gonna have to go with Jerry on this one.”

Steve looked up from the tablet, torn between incredulity and irritation.  “Seriously, Danny?”

“I know; I know.”  The detective waved his hands.  “I can’t believe it either.”

“Your support is so reassuring,” Jerry grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Danny ignored him.  “I’m not one-hundred percent on board, but I can tell you that I’ve personally seen this signature before, on a case I worked back when I was a uni.”

“Yeah?  Care to elaborate?”

Before he could answer, Chin and Abby entered almost at the same time Lou and Kono returned from their offices.  The team assembled around the table.

“Hey.  So none of the neighbors saw anything,” Chin reported.  “And there aren’t any security cameras on the premises or around the area.”

Abby nodded.  “The crime scene unit didn’t find much either.”

“Okay.  Kono, did you find any other irregularities in the Meiers’ background?”  Steve sincerely hoped she had something to point the investigation in a firm direction.

She shattered that hope with a groan.  “Other than the phone records, I didn’t find any other red flags.”

“What was in the phone records?” Abby asked.

Kono recapped everything she’d shown Steve and Danny earlier.  When she was done, Steve brought them up to speed regarding the doctor’s revised statement, Jerry’s theory and Danny’s mention of an earlier case.

All eyes shifted towards the ex-Jersey cop.  “What happened with the other case?” Lou inquired, tilting his head to one side.

Danny’s eyes rolled right and upwards in recollection.  “Well, as I was saying just before everyone got in, there was this time I pulled protection detail for this woman – I can’t recall her name right now – who was running for re-election to congress.  All I knew at first is that me and my partner at the time were supposed to sit outside her place and provide backup for some federal agents, if they needed it.”

“A couple of days in, this man stumbled up to the front of her house.”  He winced at the memory.  “Guy’s clothes were covered in blood and mud and god knows what else.  So my partner and I moved in to check it out, and he pretty much fainted in my arms.  We called for a bus to come pick him up, and that’s when the woman came out, screaming and crying.  Turns out, the man was her brother.”

Each member of the team inclined towards him, their features rapt with attention.  “What happened to him?” Abby queried.

“He’d been abducted, by someone who’d called himself ‘Bairaz’.”

“Also known as The Boar,” Jerry declared triumphantly.

“You got it,” Danny concurred.  “This Bairaz abducted the brother from his apartment in the middle of the night and took him to a second location, where he tortured him on and off for almost seventy-two hours – mostly beatings, but he stabbed him a few times too.”

Steve remembered the details Danny revealed during the interview with Meier.  “Let me guess - he wanted something from the congresswoman.”

Danny pointed a congratulatory finger at him.  “Gold star, McGarrett.  Bairaz used the brother as leverage to extort information from her.  But unlike the Staff Sergeant, she called the feds.  Don’t know who made the decision, but they decided to give Bairaz what he wanted.  She obeyed his instructions to pass along the Intel, and the brother was released – in bad shape, but alive.”

“And you think the perp from that case is related to this one?” Lou asked.  Like Steve, he didn’t appear convinced.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck.  “I’d be skeptical too, but our guy was never caught.  More importantly, the victim in my case had the same symbol cut into his skin, although his was in the middle of his chest.  I remember it clearly – I saw it when the EMT’s arrived and started their initial assessment.”  

He motioned for Steve to give him Jerry’s tablet.  With a few commands, he linked it to the smart table’s display screen and presented some of the photographs of the boar mark that had been etched into the skin of other victims, as well as the one from his phone.  “You can see for yourself that the scar pattern is the same.  It’s possible that Steve’s right; maybe there are some copycats in the mix.  Some of these look like they could have been done by different people.  But I know what I saw back then, and I know what I saw this morning.  The mark on Kalia Meier is identical to the one on the congresswoman’s brother.  I’d bet my badge on it.”

Steve kept his appearance neutral, but in truth, he was a little taken aback by that.  He and Danny often had conflicting views or theories about cases, but it had been some time since his partner was so adamant about something.  “Okay, so we’ll consider the possibility that the murder of Kalia Meier may have been committed by the same person as your guy from Jersey.  For now, I say we keep this in the back of our minds, but work this like any other case.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at his office.  “The Staff Sergeant should be just about finished writing out his statement; Danny and I will review it with him.  Hopefully, we’ll get some leads to check out.  In the meantime, you two,” he indicated Chin and Lou, “go see where Max is with the autopsy.  Maybe he’s got something from the body that can help us out.”

“Abby, Kono, re-interview the doctor’s coworkers, and get in touch with other friends and family.  We need to figure out the couple’s routine and establish a clearer timeline of what went on.  Ask everyone about ANYTHING out of the ordinary that’s happened over the last few weeks.  If we’re to believe Meier’s story, then whoever killed his wife had to have been watching them for a while in order to figure out the best time to take her.”

He grabbed the tablet and gave it back to its owner.  “Jerry, check with HPD and see if this pattern has come up before.  Set aside these other files for now; I just want you to concentrate on anything similar that happened here in Hawaii.  We’ll come back to this if the case takes us in that direction.  Oh – and while you’re at it, give Kamekona a call: ask if he’s heard anything useful that pertains to the investigation.”

“Fair enough,” Jerry said.  “But if this is the work of The Boar, you might be wasting your time.”  When everyone else glared at him, he elaborated, “No offense; you guys are good.  But he’s eluded capture from the best in the world.  He’s long gone by now.”

“Doesn’t matter.”  Steve looked at each member of Five-0.  “The Meiers deserve justice for what happened, and we’re not gonna stop until they get it.  Wherever this path leads, we’ll follow it, until we arrest Kalia’s killer.  Understood?”

There were nods and murmurs of agreement all around.  

“Yes, sir.”


	2. Classified

Steve sat at his desk and observed his partner pace the length of the office across the hall.  He had his cell phone pressed to his ear, and his jaw was clenched.  He didn’t know who Danny was talking to, but the conversation must have been pretty heavy.  He was doing more listening than talking, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his free hand.  He’d started out with it curled into a fist and shoved in his pants pocket, but it had wandered from there to rub his chin, run through his hair or hug himself.  Right now, he was alternating between massaging his temple and grinding a knuckle in his eye socket.  

Steve was supposed to be rereading Ethan Meier’s statement, now typed (courtesy of Jerry) and signed, but he’d done so at least a dozen times, and the further viewings hadn’t produced any new leads or sparked ideas about what to do next.  Over the last few days, the team had done their best to contact the individuals Meier had tried to reach out to for information, but so far, the few they’d managed to connect with were unwilling to contribute to the investigation, either citing ignorance of the situation or outright refusing to cooperate.  Lou and Jerry were still trying to track down several others, but most of them had become mysteriously unreachable.  Five-0’s hopes of obtaining viable leads was dwindling fast.  

Perhaps Danny had found something, and if it contradicted his earlier assumptions, that might explain the restlessness of his movements.  Yet they were not laced with annoyance, as he knew they would be if Danny had to admit he was wrong about this so-called “Bairaz.”  Instead, each subtle gesture and facial tick spoke of the odd mix of melancholy and bitterness.

Seven long years of working with the former Jersey cop had taught Steve almost everything there was to know about Danny’s moods and behaviors.  He had become accustomed to and, dare he say, fond of almost every one of them, including those that put them at odds or made Steve want to strangle him.  But the one thing he never enjoyed was seeing his friend in a funk.

Steve liked to fix things, whether it was old cars or his family’s personal problems, and that went double whenever Danny was involved.  However, there were times that he found himself contemplating a different approach for his partner altogether.  

Sometimes, like right now for example, he envisioned taking those fidgety hands and simply holding them until they stopped shaking.  Better yet, Steve could pry them away from the furrowed brow and sooth the tired lines around those blue eyes with his own fingers.  Or he might force Danny to sit by his side and sling an arm around his shoulders, utilizing the close proximity to get him to open up about whatever else might be troubling him.  

Steve aborted that thought process and pushed his seat back from the desk.  He picked up his tablet and spun his chair to face the wall.  He had work to do, and unless Danny had a lead, there was no reason to stare at him or generate unnecessary excuses for physical contact.  

He spared one more glance at the Staff Sergeant’s statement and crime scene photos.  The Meiers’ property did not yield any clues at all; there were no signs of forced entry anywhere in the house, no fingerprints and no foreign DNA.  That combined with the lack of suspicious activity in the neighborhood led them to conclude that Kalia had been abducted from and killed elsewhere.  For some unknown reason, the killer then returned her body to her home, which - as Eric said - seemed pointless.

Apart from the doctor’s statement, all they really had to go on was whatever might have been found on the body.  Steve touched the link for the autopsy report.  Chin and Lou had summarized the significant details, but he hadn’t gotten around to reading the full analysis himself.  

Max determined that the cause of death was indeed drowning.  There was water in Kalia Meier’s lungs, but the lab didn’t find any unique components to the sample to identify where it may have originated from.  The most they could tell him was that it was from a freshwater source.  That eliminated the ocean beaches, but did not do much to narrow down their search radius for a primary crime scene.

Their medical examiner also found bruising around the back of Kalia’s neck and her chest, irritation along the lining of the esophagus, and a cracked sternum.  Taken together, Max believed that their victim had endured some form of waterboarding torture.  She’d been revived at least once; the damage to her chest indicated that C.P.R. had been performed, and she’d vomited a few times.

Other than the one on her hand, Max didn’t find any other odd carvings, and it didn’t give them much more to work with.  The wound was shallow and could have been made with any common knife.

Steve lowered the tablet to rest on his lap and let his head drop back to look at the ceiling.  He’d meant what he’d said about finding Kalia’s killer, but this case was going nowhere fast.

_Tap. Tap._

“Hey, Steve; got a minute?”

The commander rotated his neck to find Lou standing in the doorway.  “Sure thing.  Come on in.”  Steve nodded to one of the chairs in front of his desk and swung his towards the former SWAT captain.

Lou obliged and made himself comfortable.

Steve set the case notes down.  “What’s going on?”

“Well, first things first - Abby’s following up with the couple’s friends and family to see if there’s anything that might contradict Meier’s statement.  Nothing so far; by all accounts, they had a happy, healthy marriage.  No reports of infidelity, no financial trouble, and there’s no one else in their social circle with any motive to hurt them.”

“I thought as much,” Steve said.  “I think it’s safe to say that Meier is telling the truth about what happened.  I’m still not sure this Bairaz or The Boar or whatever is the same one from Danny’s case, or any of the others Jerry showed us, but all signs point to this being a professional job.”

“Right.  That said, we’ve got the contact information for two more people Meier tried to call for help.  Chin and Kono are on a conference call with one of them right now.  The other is a Commander Aiden Jackson.  He’s stationed at Fort Shafter, but he isn’t returning our calls.  I checked with the administrator on duty; she said he was off today.  I thought maybe you might have better luck getting in touch with him.”

“Got a home address?”

Lou held out a slip of paper.  “Yep. He lives off base in Ko Olina.  His cell and office numbers are listed there too.”

Steve took the note and read the information.  “Good.  Danny and I will go check it out; see if we can’t catch him at home.  He might be more willing to talk to us without his superior officers and co-workers around.”  He made a move to stand and grab his gear.

“Woah, hold up now!” Lou admonished.  “That’s not the only reason I came in here.”

Steve plopped back down.  “Okay; something else on your mind?”

“Actually, I was going to ask you that.”  Lou settled in, crossing one leg over the over with an easy mien, but his expression was focused and brokered no room for argument.  

Steve gave a half smile.  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Danny talked to all of us about doing the superhero play for the kids at the children’s hospital.”  He chuckled and patted his stomach.  “I don’t exactly have the physique to squeeze into a leather costume, but I’m all for doing my part.  Everyone else likes the idea too.  But Danny seems to think you’re against it.”

Steve groaned and rolled his eyes.  “I’m NOT against it.”

“I didn’t think you would be, but you _have_ been a bit short with him lately.”  Lou folded his hands in his lap.  “I’m just guessing here, but I don’t think it’s the play you’re mad about, is it?”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.  “What, are you my therapist now?”

Lou shook his head and laughed again.  “Nah.  But come to think of it, aren’t you guys due for another round of couples’ counseling?”

“Ha ha,” Steve snorted, though something inside him leapt at the word “couple” in reference to himself and his partner.  

“Look, you don’t have to tell me.  Just promise you’ll talk it out with Danny.”  Grover pointed a thumb towards the conference area where Chin, Kono, Abby and Jerry could be seen wandering around.  “We know you guys have your disagreements, but when you’re not getting along, it affects the whole team.  And with the way this case is going, we can’t afford to have infighting.”  His mood lightened, and he smirked.  “Can’t have Captain America starting another superhero civil war.”

Steve glared at his friend for the reference, but a grin threatened to burst through regardless.  “Alright, I’ll handle it.  That all?”

“That’s it for now.  I’m going to run out to Kamekona’s, grab some lunch and see if he’s had any luck with his sources.  Want me to pick up anything for you and Danny?”

“No, thanks.  We’ll get something on the way back from the Commander’s residence,” Steve said.  He tucked the address into his shirt pocket and arranged a few of the objects on his desk before leaving.  Lou let himself out and disappeared down the hall.

Danny had hung up the phone by the time Steve was ready to go, but if possible, he seemed even more distracted than before. He’d stopped pacing and was staring into space, while chewing on his bottom lip.  Steve decided that no matter what happened with the interview, he would get his friend to talk about whatever was bothering him during this outing.

He strolled into Danny’s office with the ninja-like grace that so often annoyed the detective and beckoned him with a wave of his hand.  “Hey.  We got an address for one of Meier’s contacts.  You up for a drive?”

“Mm-hmm.  I could use some air.”  Danny double checked that his badge and gun were secure on his belt and did a visual sweep of the room to see if there was anything else he needed.  When he was satisfied, he accompanied Steve out of the building and slid into the passenger seat of his car without complaint.

The drive from Iolani Palace to the neighborhood where Commander Aiden Jackson lived would take approximately forty minutes, depending on the traffic.  Along the way, they stopped for coffee at one of the nondescript drive-thru shops and traded thoughts about conceivable avenues of investigation.

“I know you wanted us to work this as a separate incident, but I went ahead and called some of my buddies back at NPD,” Danny said.  “I thought if I could get in touch with my old partner from the other case, he might remember something that could help us, or tell me if anyone was still investigating that one.”  He traced a finger around the rim of his coffee cup, eyes downcast.  

Steve glanced over.  “And?”

Danny took a tentative sip of his drink before answering.  “I got ahold of him, but he didn’t have anything new to contribute as far as leads go.   But he did give me an update on the congresswoman and her brother.”  His voice softened.  “I guess after everything that happened to him, the brother started using drugs to cope with his PTSD.  The congresswoman tried to get him to go to therapy and rehab, but he wouldn’t stick with the programs.  He overdosed a few years ago.”

Steve hummed in sympathy.  “That sucks.”

“Sure does, but it’s not unexpected.  They didn’t have any other family to fall back on, and the sister was wrapped up in her political career.  I’m not saying it’s her fault, obviously; I don’t know the full story.  But I can understand how hard it must have been for him to try and deal with everything by himself.”

“Yeah.”  Steve saw an opening and took it.  “Yeah, it can be tough to go it alone.  You and me – we both know what that’s like.  We’ve been through some awful shit.  But at least now we have each other.”  He gave Danny a sharp look, willing him to catch on.

He must have; Steve caught the flinch that passed through him and the careful avoidance of eye contact.

“Yes, we do,” Danny agreed, and offered nothing more.

Steve delayed a beat, and then cleared his throat.  “Sooo, that being said, is there perhaps anything you want to talk about?”

Danny’s eyes rolled back in thought.  He took a short inhalation through his nose; on the exhalation, he shook his head.  “Nope.  Nothing comes to mind.”

“Really?  We’re gonna do this _again_?”

Steve’s condescending tone evoked the exact reaction he’d hoped for.  Danny spun to gawk at him, affronted.  “What?  What is it you want from me, huh?  Spit it out already!”

“Cut the crap, Danny.  Anyone with eyes can see something’s not right with you, hasn’t been for a couple of weeks.  You’ve been especially sensitive lately, and you look exhausted all the time.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, you have?  And you’re only just asking about it _now_?”

“Well, yeah!  You complain about how I don’t respect your space or your privacy, but now you’re upset that I didn’t say anything sooner?  Which is it, Daniel?  What do you want?”

“That’s what I asked you!  Aren’t you the one always telling me I talk too much?”

“I - not when it comes to the things that matter!  Danny, you...” Steve checked his tongue from continuing in this manner, knowing from experience that if they kept at it, one or both of them might let their tempers take over enough to say something hurtful.  But he’d cracked the proverbial lid, and he wasn’t about to let Danny shut it again.  

Steve saw a right turn about a mile ahead.  Along that street, there was a small playground, and its parking lot was relatively empty for this time of day.  He slammed the gas pedal to the floor and weaved the Camaro around the other vehicles on the road.

Danny hurried to place his coffee in the cup holder so that he could brace himself.  His hands shot up to grip the dashboard.  “Steve, what-”

At the turn, Steve jerked the wheel right, followed by an almost immediate left into the lot.  The tires squealed against the asphalt when he let off the accelerator to hit the brakes.  The back end of the car swung in a sharp arc as it came to a full stop.

Steve felt his heart pounding in his chest.  His blood roared with the temporary spark of adrenaline and anger.  Nevertheless, he relaxed in his seat and calmly removed the keys from the ignition.  He stared straight ahead and listened to Danny gasp beside him.

As was customary in these circumstances, Danny’s panic flipped to fury. “What the fuck, McGarrett?”

Steve closed his eyes and reached deep within himself.  Words, he needed to use his words for this, and he needed to do so before Danny recovered enough to launch into a full-blown rant.

“You’re shutting me out,” he mumbled.

“What?” Danny cried.

The SEAL kept his cool against the murderous glare.  “In the past,” he began, “you’ve gotten really defensive when I pried into your life, so I’ve tried to make a real effort to respect your boundaries.  And sure, we joke around about talking too much and emotions and whatever, but we can’t do that with the important stuff.”

He knew by the silence that he had Danny’s full attention.  He angled his body as much as he could towards his friend.  “Something’s going on with you, and you’re struggling.”  He raised a finger to stop the objection.  “Don’t bother denying it.  And I want to be there for you.  I want to _help_ you, if you’d let me.  But you’re shutting me out.  And when the people I care about start doing that, they…”  He stopped and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“They - what?” Danny prodded.

“They leave.”

The crease between Danny’s eyes melted a fraction.  “I’m sorry, what?”

Steve wasn’t keen to own up to his ongoing fears, but he knew that his partner was more likely to open up if he was honest as well.  The echo of past therapy sessions reverberated in his head.   _‘Don’t hold back, Commander.  Tell Detective Williams what you’re feeling right now.’_  It felt like bullshit at the time, but he couldn’t deny that it helped them work through their issues to some degree.  

“It’s a pattern I’ve noticed,” he said.  “First there was my dad.  After my mother disappeared, he withdrew from Mary and me, and then he sent us away.  And, as you know, Doris kept all kinds of secrets from me, her whole life in fact.  And finally, there was Catherine.  She stopped confiding in me, didn’t tell me anything about where her head was at or that she was planning to break things off and leave until the last moment.”

Danny scowled at the mention of Steve’s old flame.  Then he put his superb deductive reasoning to use and inferred where Steve was going with this.  “And so because I haven’t been spilling my guts over my problems, you think I’m about to take off somewhere and abandon you?”

Steve hated how that made him sound like anything less than a perfectly well-adjusted human being, accurate though it was.  But more importantly, Danny had slipped up.  The SEAL cracked a smile.  “Ha!  You finally admit you’re having problems.”

Danny threw up his hands in exasperation, but Steve knew he’d broken through by the reduced tension in those broad shoulders.  “Okay; number one – don’t EVER compare me to Catherine.  It’s not fair; you and I have seen each other at our worst, gone through some awful shit – as you pointed out – and I’m still here.  We’re still together.  And that’s not going to change.  Even if a day comes where I might want to take a different path in life, I would tell you well before I actually made a final decision.”

He reached over and patted Steve on the forearm with a small smile.  “You’re stuck with me, babe.  I would think you’d have accepted that by now.”

Relief flooded through the whole of Steve’s body, and he returned the smile with his own goofy grin.  “Lucky me.”

Neither said anything for a moment.  Steve allowed his gaze to wander over Danny’s features, admiring them in a way he didn’t often consider.  He wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t blind.  He knew that Danny was an attractive man.  He’d seen plenty of men and women check his partner out, and – under extreme duress – might admit that he too may have done so more than once.  But it had always been more of a general observation, the way the average patron might look at pieces in an art gallery.  One may walk past many objects of unique beauty, and yet have no more than a passing appreciation.

It wasn’t like that anymore.  Try as he might, Steve had ceased to wander through the whole of the metaphorical museum, because he couldn’t look past the masterpiece that was Daniel Williams.  He was beautiful, loud, passionate and colorful, to the extent that few could fail to notice him, but also soft and gentle where it mattered.  He was unquestionably flawed and disfigured in some places, as everyone was, but it did not repel Steve in the slightest.  If anything, it drew him in deeper, as might be expected when friends knew each other as intimately as they did.  

More and more, Steve was astonished to discover that his thoughts had changed when it came to Danny, in ways he wouldn’t submit to, or even name.

He grunted and withdrew his arm from Danny’s grasp.  “So number one: no comparing you to Catherine.  Got it.  What’s number two?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation back on track.

An expression that Steve didn’t recognize flashed across Danny’s face.  Half-lidded, glistening eyes, eyebrows raised just above a neutral position and his mouth pulled down at the corners; all of these were familiar on their own, but Steve could not identify what they signified when taken together like this.  There was sadness there, but to call it that didn’t seem quite right.

Whatever it was disappeared in a blink; Danny slouched and tipped his head to the side, leaning it against the window.  “Number two,” he continued, “is that you’re right.  I _have_ been struggling lately.  A lot of shitty things started happening all at once, and it’s been hard to deal with.”  He glanced at Steve.  “It wasn’t my intent to be secretive or to shut you or anyone else out.  Truth is, I haven’t been able to wrap my mind around everything.  It’s all a tangled mess up here.”  He tapped the side of his head.  “It’s hard to talk about something when I don’t understand it myself, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that.  But talking might help you figure it out.”

“I know.  I have been.”  Danny squirmed and lifted his head again.  His eyes drifted to his lap.  “I’ve been seeing a shrink.”

That took Steve by surprise.  Both of them had mixed feelings about therapists, but no one on the team ever faulted one another for needing professional services.  “Has it helped?”

“A bit,” Danny said.  “The doctor gave me a couple of books to read.  One of them came with a workbook I have to fill out.”

“Is that what I saw the other day?  The one you said wouldn’t interest me?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Steve refrained from going off on Danny for that unwarranted assumption.  “Okay.  Well, that’s good.  I mean - it’s good that you’re working things out.  But I’d still like to be involved.”

“Yeah, okay.  But correct me if I’m wrong - aren’t we supposed to be on our way to interview a witness in a murder investigation?”

“Danny…”

The detective raised a brow, fixing Steve with the same authoritative air he used with his children.  “Don’t give me that look.  This isn’t a _‘no.’_  It’s a ‘ _not now.’_  We have a job to do, Super SEAL.  Let’s go talk to this guy first.  We can come back to this later.”

“You promise?”

Danny half-smiled and drew an imaginary “X” over the left side of his chest.  “Cross my heart, babe.”

“Fine,” Steve relented.  “I’m holding you to that.”  He put the keys back in and started the vehicle.  

“Of course.”  Danny picked up his coffee again.  “I can’t wait.”  

When Steve pulled out of the parking lot, Danny peered in the passenger side mirror and shook his head at the black marks left behind on the pavement from the Commander’s reckless driving.  “That little detour was a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“ _Dramatic_?” Steve repeated.  “Ah - hello, pot?  This is kettle…”

“Shut up, McGarrett.”

They shared a short laugh, and then fell into a more light-hearted conversation about their extended Ohana for the remainder of the drive to Ko Olina.

The area where Commander Aiden Jackson lived was a planned vacation and residential community, with plenty of beachfront properties, four star hotels and recreational clubs.  The address that Lou found led them to a private townhouse that overlooked the third fairway of the golf resort.  Even Danny, who routinely complained about everything to do with the design and layout, not to mention prices, of such neighborhoods whistled at the impressive structures, both natural and manmade.  

“That’s it, right there.”  Steve parked the car on the side of the road opposite to the house.  He and Danny climbed out and crossed the street.  He made the short hop over the three stairs on the front porch and rang the doorbell.

A young man, possibly in his early thirties, answered the door in cargo pants and a wrinkled black t-shirt.  He was drying the back of his short-cropped, red hair with a towel.  “Yes?"

“Good afternoon.  I’m Commander Steve McGarrett.  This is my partner, Detective Danny Williams.  We’re from the Governor’s Five-0 task force.  Are you Commander Aiden Jackson?”

“That’s me,” he replied with a wary smile.  “What can I do for you?”

“We’d like to talk to you about Staff Sergeant Ethan Meier.  We’re investigating the murder of his wife,” Steve said.

Commander Jackson’s friendly countenance vanished.  “Then it’s true?  She’s dead?”

“I’m afraid so,” Danny confirmed.  “Do you mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?”

Jackson tossed his towel off the side, and then stepped out of the house, closing the door behind him.  “I think it’s better if we talk out here.”  He stood in front of the entrance and leaned against the doorframe.

“Alright,” Steve consented.  “I understand the Staff Sergeant called you a few days ago.  It would have been a few hours before his wife died.  Can you tell us what you two talked about?”

“No, sir.  I’m afraid I can’t.”

Steve and Danny glanced at one another.  “Why’s that?” the SEAL asked.

“It’s classified.”  Jackson stated.  “I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

“Oh you’re not, huh?”  Danny was used to hearing that rhetoric from Steve and had grown tired of it long ago.  “A woman is dead.  Doctor Meier lost his wife.  You understand that, right?”

Steve heard the disdain in his friend’s voice and recognized it as a warning sign that he was on his way to losing his patience.  As a preemptive measure, he took Danny by the arm and guided him to take a step back.  “Commander, I understand the position you’re in, and I don’t expect you to break protocol.  But we want to bring Kalia Meier’s killer to justice.  Surely there must be _something_ you can tell us.  A hint, a name – anything to point us in the right direction.”

Jackson shook his head.  “I appreciate that you’re just trying to do your jobs, but I can’t help you.”  The stern look in his eyes diminished.  “I’m sorry.  I feel bad about Staff Sergeant Meier; I really do.  He’s a good man, and what happened to his wife was awful.  But I have my orders.”

“Do your orders include protecting a murderer?  Because right now, that’s the only thing that’s being accomplished by all this secrecy,” Danny snapped.

The man stood as tall as he could and scowled down at Danny.  “Watch the attitude, detective.  You’ve neither the authority to compel my cooperation, nor the _intelligence_ needed to solve this case, which – by the way – won’t be your problem much longer anyway.  You might as well let it go.”

“Why you-“

There were two ways one might interpret Jackson’s statement, and Danny took it for an insult.  He would have attacked the naval officer if Steve hadn’t seen it coming and intervened.  

“Danny, don’t!”  He wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist from behind and pulled him back, half tripping down the steps.  “Settle down!”  Steve twisted his body so that he was between the antagonistic men and stumbled to put some distance between them.

“Hey, hey!  Knock it off!”  Steve held onto him until he stopped thrashing.  “What’s gotten into you, huh?”  He gave Danny a light shove towards the street.  “Maybe you should go wait by the car.”

For a minute, Steve thought Danny might turn on him.  He had that same brief second of calm, followed by passionate intensity, that he’d had the first day they’d met, when Danny punched him in the jaw and claimed he didn’t like him.   Fortunately, Danny regained control of his emotions and marched off towards the Camaro, leaving Steve to glean whatever information he could from their witness.

Jackson appeared unperturbed by the close assault.  “Your partner seems to have a temper.  Can’t imagine he’s much of an asset to your task force if he goes off so easily.”

Steve infringed into Aiden’s space.  “On the contrary, Detective Williams is one of the best police officers I’ve ever had the honor to work with.  He’s passionate about his work, and doesn’t take kindly to those who hinder him from doing his job – not even self-righteous Navy Commanders.”  He smirked at the inside joke.

He backed off.  “But setting that aside, what did you mean when you said it wouldn’t be our problem much longer?”

Jackson shrugged and put his hand on the doorknob.  “I meant exactly what I said.  If the rumor mill is true, and, considering my orders, I believe it is, then there’s another task force set up to handle this.  I’m actually surprised they haven’t swooped in to take over by now.”

He opened the door and stepped inside.  “I AM sorry, Commander McGarrett.  I’ve heard good things about you, and Five-0, but this goes above your head, above the _governor’s_ head.  My advice to you?  When – whoever it is – comes around, relinquish the case and wash your hands of it.  I’m sure there’s plenty for you to do without having to worry about this.”

Commander Aiden Jackson saluted Steve, mumbled, “Good afternoon,” and shut the door.

Steve frowned at the house for a few more seconds, wondering if there was anything he might say or do to coax something useful out of one of their last leads.  

Nothing came to mind.

He rejoined Danny, and one look between them was all that was needed to communicate their mutual frustration and disappointment.

* * *

 They arrived at headquarters and found that their foul mood was shared by the others.  Chin and Kono had not fared any better with their witness, and anyone else Lou tried to contact would not return his calls.  

Jerry was the only one energized by the lack of forward progress.  He took it as a sign that his (and Danny’s) initial theory was correct, that Kalia Meier was the latest victim of Bairaz, a.k.a. The Boar, a.k.a Scrofa, a.k.a. – the list went on.  Steve wasn’t ready to concede the existence of a single, untraceable information broker, but he had to admit that there was more going on than he’d initially thought.

“We know for sure that neither the Staff Sergeant, nor anyone else he and his wife were close to are responsible,” Chin said to the team gathered around the table.  “And no one noticed anyone suspicious or vehicles they didn’t recognize following either Ethan or Kalia in the days leading up to the abduction or murder.”

“He has contacts in the military that have the skills to pull this off,” Abby put in, “but we couldn’t find any with a connection to The Boar alias.”

“Even if there _was_ a connection, we wouldn’t find it.  No one’s been very forthcoming; everyone that Meier called about the kid from Afghanistan is M.I.A., doesn’t know anything, or pulls the ‘it’s classified’ card,” Danny griped.  “We’re being stonewalled.”

Lou groaned.  “So basically, we’ve got nothing.”

“It’s like I’ve been telling you!  The Boar took off as soon as the job was done,” Jerry insisted.

“But it _wasn’t_ done,” Danny asserted.  “He didn’t get the information he wanted from Meier, which means he’s probably moved onto another target.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Steve said.

“Yes we can.”  Jerry used the smart table to overlay the screen with all the other case files he’d collected.  In addition to those mined from the internet, he had found one unsolved homicide and three cases of abduction and assault with a similar pattern throughout the state of Hawaii, going back ten years.  “The Boar is paid to collect information.  If he can’t get it from once source, he just moves on to another, and another, until he finds what he wants.  He’s NEVER failed to deliver.”

Everyone processed Jerry’s ongoing theory in silence.  Steve presumed that most of them weren’t convinced yet either, but they could all agree that they may have hit a dead end.

“What should we do now?” Kono asked, looking to Steve for instructions.

All eyes turned to him.  Steve put his hands on his hips and considered her query.  “At this point, we’ve exhausted almost every lead in the Meier case, so we should take a look at these others that Jerry found.  Maybe there’s something in them that can help us.  Let’s pull any evidence from them and, as difficult as it will be, re-interview the victims and witnesses.”

“That’s not going to be easy,” Jerry warned.  “After what happened, the victims might have relocated.  I’m not sure I’d want to stick around where I was attacked.”

“And even if we do manage to track anyone down, who’s to say they’ll talk to us?  We’ll probably get the same runaround with them as we did with everyone in this case.” Danny groused.

Steve had the same thought, but was determined to remain optimistic.  “We won’t know until we try.  But all of that can wait until tomorrow.  We’ve done what we could today.  A good night’s sleep should give us fresh eyes and new ideas.”

“Can’t hurt,” Chin granted with a tired moan.  He and the others began to shuffle around, preparing to gather their things and depart for the evening.

“Ah – before you all take off,” Danny announced, “are any of you busy on Saturday?”

The gang paused their dispersion, and Abby voiced the question for all of them.  “Why?  What’s up?”

“Charlie and I are going to visit the children’s hospital to see how everyone’s doing with planning the superhero event.  I was wondering if any of you wanted to come along?  If we’re all going to participate in the play, it would be beneficial to connect with the kids, especially the ones writing the scripts.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Chin said.  “I’m game.”

“Me too,” said Abby and Lou.

Kono grinned.  “I bet I can talk Adam into helping.  Count us both in.”

Danny glanced up at Steve.  “And you, Captain America?”

“Hey, I haven’t committed to that yet,” Steve objected.

“I thought the governor mandated it,” Lou recalled.  He could barely contain his smirk.

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Steve pouted.  “But I meant the part about portraying Captain America.  He was in the army; I was Navy.”

“Close enough,” Danny said.  “Besides, what difference does it make?  He’s a fictional character, and it's only for one afternoon.”

“It’s the principle of it,” Steve complained.  

“It’s an excuse is what it is,” Danny retorted.

“No, it’s not.  I’m just confused.”  Steve motioned between himself and Danny.  “I find it strange that I had to _order_ you to go undercover as an economics professor, but you’ll play dress-up of your own volition.”

“What about the phrase ‘sick kids’ do you not understand?”

“The part that has you willing to put on a cheap costume to spout out cheesy lines from a comic book.”  

“For someone who turns into a gooey marshmallow when we have cases involving fatherless kids, you’re being really obtuse about all this,” Danny snarked.

Steve could sense the rest of their team watching their debate like a tennis match, heads whipping back and forth with every passing argument.  He had hoped to bring it up later, in private, but now was as good a time as any to revisit the real issue behind his displeasure.  “Honestly, Danny, I’m not opposed to this project.  What’s bugging me is the fact that you’ve been doing all this extra volunteer work and didn’t tell me.”

He read Danny’s body tense language and knew he was appropriately correlating this additional statement with their earlier conversation.

“I’ve actually been wondering about that too,” said Kono.  She copied Steve’s ‘disappointed face’.  “It’s cool that you’ve been helping the foundation, but it kinda bums me out that you didn’t include us before now.”  Everyone else nodded in agreement.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal.”  Danny shrugged as though he wasn’t affected by the inquisitive looks directed at him, but he took a small step back from the group.  “Besides, I’d hate to ruin my reputation around here.”

Lou considered the detective with his no-nonsense expression.  “Oh, yeah?  And what reputation is that?”

Danny’s lips curled into a sneer.  “I believe the word everyone likes to use is ‘curmudgeon’.  Isn’t that right?”

“Oh, come on, _brah_!” Kono laughed.  “It’s a joke.”

“We mean it as a term of endearment,” Chin elaborated.

“Oh, excuse me,” Danny squawked, “for being too sensitive.  Forgive me for feeling that the joke’s gotten old, or that it’s possible to express one’s fondness for someone without pointing out their flaws!”

The cousins shifted and looked away, as did Jerry and Abby.  Lou fixed Steve with a knowing stare, reminding him without words that he needed to take charge of the situation.

“Look, Daniel, it’s been a long day.  Why don’t we all go out and grab a beer?  We can clear our heads and talk about this away from the office.”

Danny hesitated, and Steve read a small change in the lines of his face.  The narrowed brows relaxed ever-so-slightly, as anger seemed to switch to confusion.   Blue eyes clenched shut, then reopened and blinked several times in quick succession.  

“Danno?” Steve prompted.

Danny twitched and recovered himself.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think now is the best time,” he mumbled.  His voice was soft and slow; the spike of energy from expressing his displeasure had waned.  “I mean, you’re right – it’s been a long day, but I think it might be better if we all get some sleep.  We’ll need it if we have any hope of solving this case.”

“If you’re referring to the Meier case, then you needn’t worry about it anymore,” said a familiar voice.

Everyone whirled to face the entrance, hands flying to touch their weapons in preparation to draw, if necessary.  But when they saw who it was, most of them stood down.

Standing in front of the door was a woman.  She wore black slacks with a gun clipped to the waist, and a short-sleeved, dark blue blouse.  Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she smiled.

“Hello, Steve.  Hello, everyone.”

He froze, confounded by her sudden appearance.  “Catherine?”

The rest of Five-0 was likewise stunned and uncomfortable, but Danny tapped into a hidden well of resentment reserved specifically for their former member.

“What are YOU doing here?” Danny growled, seething.

If Lieutenant Catherine Rollins was alarmed by Danny’s reaction to her presence, she did not show it.  “I apologize for the intrusion, but I’m here on official business.”  She rapped her knuckles on the door behind her.  

Two men appeared around the corner down the hall, and entered to stand beside her.  Both of them were taller than Catherine by several inches, but that was where their similarities ended.  The man to her right had a military build beneath his jeans and polo shirt, and his head was shaved.  The man on her left was skinny but fit, like a runner, and wore a checkered button-down over a white t-shirt and khakis.  He wore rimless glasses and was carrying a laptop.

The three of them approached the table, and Catherine explained, “These are two of my colleagues.  We’re here to collect the evidence and all your files from the Kalia Meier case.”

“Aww, I knew it!” Jerry gloated.  “It’s true!  The Boar really IS behind this, and you’re here to cover it up!”

“You’re as excitable as ever,” Catherine laughed.  “But your assumption isn’t completely accurate.  We’re not here to cover up anything.  It’s simply a change in jurisdiction.  We’ll be taking over the investigation.”

Jerry wasn’t buying it.  “Is that right?  Then how come all the witnesses won’t talk to us?”

“It’s a precautionary measure, to protect them from becoming targets themselves.  I’m sorry, but I can’t say any more on the matter.”  She looked to Steve for support.  “Please don’t fight me on this, or take it personally.”

Lou stepped closer to Steve.  “How do you wanna play this?” he whispered.

Steve kept his eyes on his ex-girlfriend.  “I’ll handle it.  You guys can take off.”

“You sure, boss?”  Kono eyed Catherine’s companions dubiously.  “We can stay.”

Steve tore his gaze away from his former love and nodded to the team.  “It’s alright.  I’ll fill you in first thing tomorrow morning.”

His Ohana wavered a minute more, communicating with one another through silent glances and faint gestures, and then began to scatter.  Each of them touched Steve on the arm or shoulder as they passed him to convey their support.  He smiled in thanks.

The only one who didn’t move was Danny.  Throughout the short conversation, he had stood at Steve’s side, hands clenching and unclenching like he wanted to hit something.

The SEAL put a hand on the detective’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.  “Go on home, Danno.  I’ll call you later, okay?”

Danny ignored him.  “Rollins, I need to talk to you for a minute - alone.”  He held out his arm towards his office.  “That’s not a request.”

Catherine’s beautiful smile did not fade, but it was pained now.  “As you wish.”  She signaled to her associates to remain where they were and followed Danny’s direction.

Steve grabbed his friend by the wrist.  “Danno?  What are you doing?”

Danny glanced up at him, and that same unidentifiable expression from that afternoon made a momentary reappearance.  “Don’t worry.  I just want to clear the air between us.”  He wrenched his arm free, went into his office, and closed the door behind them.  He also closed the blinds in the windows to prevent Steve from watching their discussion.

Steve wondered if he should be worried about them.  When Catherine broke up with him to pursue a career in the C.I.A., Danny had been outraged on his behalf.  He had known, without Steve having to explicitly tell him, that it wrecked him.  Even now, over a year later, Steve couldn’t fully put into words just how much he’d been affected by her departure.  He could look back on it and accept that, in the long run, he and Cath wouldn’t have worked, but it didn’t make him care for her any less.  

Danny knew that too.  And, as he did whenever there was a threat to the people he cared about, he went into ‘mama bear’ mode, lashing out in ways that were more typical of Steve’s modus operandi.  Steve hoped she wasn’t being subjected to one of Danny’s overprotective tirades, and he made a mental note to remind his partner that the issues between himself and Catherine weren’t really any of his business.  

Meanwhile, Catherine’s associates loitered around the room, seemingly unsure of what to do with themselves.  The military man examined the smart table with undisguised envy, and the guy with the glasses was looking at one of Five-0’s weapon racks, muttering off the names and calibers of the various firearms.  They showed no interest in engaging in a conversation with Steve, and the sentiment was mutual.

About ten minutes after he’d shut the door, Danny emerged from his office, carrying his satchel in one hand while the other covered the top half of his face.  As he headed for the exit, Steve was startled to see that he was swiping at his eyes.  

“Danno?  Are you okay?”  Steve trailed in his wake and reached out to touch him.

Danny flinched at the barest brush of Steve’s fingers, and rotated to keep his face hidden from view.  “Fine.  Everything’s fine.  See you later, McGarrett.”  He left in a rush, his shoulders hunched and a slight drag in his feet.

Rather than run after him, Steve went to confront Catherine.  He found her sitting in one of the chairs; her fingers drumming on the armrests, and she appeared thoughtful.  

“What just happened in here?” Steve demanded.  He had figured he’d need to protect _her_ from _Danny_ , not the other way around.

Catherine looked up and tried to grin at him, but her eyes shone with compassion and sadness.  “I’m afraid I’ve upset him.”

“How?  What did you say to him?”

She studied him and worried her lip with her teeth.  “I think that needs to stay between us.  Danny should be the one to tell you.”  She stood up, and her smile became more genuine.  “I will say this – he’s a good friend.  And he loves you.  I hope you know that.”

“Of course I do,” Steve replied.  He and Danny’s affection for one another was a given, but there was a layer to the way she’d said it that puzzled him.  Moreover, he could feel a tension in the room, and it permeated his body.  He couldn’t say whether it was that which was left in the wake of the private conversation or if it was being generated by his and Cath’s loaded history.

“Good.  Now – onto business.  As I said before, we need to collect the evidence from the Meier murder, and we’ll need copies of all your reports.  The C.I.A. is officially taking over the investigation.”

Steve leaned back to perch on the edge of Danny’s desk.  “What’s the C.I.A.’s interest in this case?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s classified.”  Her eyes shone with mischievousness, and she giggled.  “You understand.”

Steve’s traitorous heart did a little backflip at her attempt at playfulness.  He wished it didn’t, but apparently it still needed more time to disassociate her everyday quirks with the memories of their time together.  “Yes, I do…”

“Okay then.”  She spun on her heel and walked back to the ops center with him close behind.  “Go ahead and start downloading the files, Michael.  Aaron, call the crime lab again and tell them to have any physical evidence ready for us.  If they give you the runaround, tell them to call Steve McGarrett to confirm the exchange.”

“Hey, hold on!”  Steve stepped into her path.  “I didn’t _agree_ ; I just said I understood.”

Cath folded her arms and shifted her weight to one side.  “I’m not asking for your permission, Steve.  This case is part of a larger, ongoing investigation.  We won’t stop you from working it locally if you really want to; that’s why we’re not deleting your files.”  

Her gaze flickered to the man with glasses, who had hooked up his laptop to one of the USB ports on the table.  “As a matter of fact, Michael’s going to install a monitoring system.  If you do happen to make any progress, or if any new cases come about that could be connected, we’ll be notified.”

“Like spyware?” Steve accused.    

“Something like that.”  Catherine said.  “Steve, please!  Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”  She lowered her voice to a whisper.  “Listen, there’s more going on here than you know, and Five-0 doesn’t have the clearance or the resources to deal with it.  We do.”

“Then it’s true?  This whole conspiracy theory about The Boar and everything he’s supposedly done?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” she maintained.  But then she gave a tiny nod.

“We’re all done here,” one of the men called.  

Catherine peered around Steve.  “Okay.  I’ll meet you two downstairs.”

They waved their acknowledgement and left as swiftly as they’d entered.  When they were gone, she nodded.  “Well, that’s that.”  She took a small step closer to Steve.  “Listen, I know things are still – weird – between us, but our paths _are_ gonna cross now and then.  I just want you to know that our past has no bearing on this, nor will it on any other occasion where we might need to collaborate.”

“You call this _collaboration_?” Steve growled.  

“I call it _doing my job_ ,” she argued.  “And I need to get back to it.”

Catherine circled around him.  

“Wait,” Steve called.  “What about Staff Sergeant Meier?  What am I supposed to tell him, huh?”

She paused at the door and looked back over her shoulder.  “I’ve informed him of the situation.  And I promise that I’ll personally keep him updated on our progress.”  She graced him with one last smile.  “Next time I’m in town, I’d love to get some coffee with you, if that’s alright.”

Steve tried to answer, but he didn’t know what to say.   _'Sure, that’d be great.  Let’s catch up.’_ didn’t seem like a good idea, but neither did ‘ _No way; I can’t take the risk of letting you in again.’_  

He closed his mouth and said nothing.

She waved her hand, giving no indication as to whether or not she took his lack of response as an answer.  In a blink, she was gone, off to parts unknown, with Five-0’s case and a piece of Steve’s heart, one that he would never get back, in her possession.


	3. Avengers Assemble

One of the most obnoxious things about liver regeneration, other than Danny’s fussing, was that it was not capable of metabolizing alcohol as efficiently as it did before.  Steve had healed enough to drink in moderation, which amounted to a beer or two, but his doctor had cautioned him not to consume any hard liquor.  

That, plus drinking on an empty stomach, was why a single glass of whiskey hit him harder than it should have.  Steve wasn’t an alcoholic by any means, nor was he prone to hardcore partying (i.e. drinking himself into a stupor), but after the day he’d had, he needed something to take the edge off.  Bombs and bullets he could handle with ease, but a dodgy Danny and Catherine’s unforeseen appearance required a little liquid catharsis.

As a result, his head was pleasantly swimming, hindering his ability to think and process the knocking noise coming from the living room.  It was several minutes before he realized that someone was at the door.  Eventually, he went to investigate and discovered that his vision was just skewed enough to make it difficult to judge the distance between himself and the furniture.  Accordingly, Steve banged his leg on the coffee table when he stumbled past it.  He swore loudly and toppled into a chair, clutching his right knee.

“Steve?  Are you okay?” called a muffled voice.  

He sat up and rubbed the sore spot.  “Danny?  That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.  I’m coming in, okay?”

Steve heard the jingle of keys and the click of the lock.  The knob jiggled a couple of times before the door actually opened, and when Danny entered, he saw that it was because his partner’s hands were burdened with grocery bags.

“What are you doing here?  And what’s all this?” Steve asked, rising to his feet.

Danny kicked the door closed with his foot and walked past him to the kitchen.  “Well, let’s see.  I’ve got all the ingredients to make my grandmother’s world famous, grilled Tuscan chicken and vegetable salad,”  he deposited the items on the counter, “and some overnight essentials.”  The duffle bag that was hanging over his shoulder fell to the floor.  “Based on the physical evidence, a detective would deduce that I’m here to make you dinner and crash on your couch.”

Steve held onto the edges of the kitchen island while Danny unpacked the food.  “Any particular reason?”

Danny offered a sarcastic eyeroll.  “It’s been a difficult day, Steven.  We lost our case - to your ex, of all people.  So I thought a little T.L.C. might be in order.”

Despite the whiskey slowing his reasoning skills, Steve thought he knew what his friend was up to.  “I’m fine, Danny.”

“I know that, Super SEAL.  You’re a machine; you’ve been programmed to shut off your emotions when it suits you.”  He opened one of the cupboards and grabbed a couple of mixing bowls.  “I, on the other hand, cannot.  Nor can I be trusted to be alone right now.  So unless you’re okay with me tracking Catherine down and subjecting her to a rant of epic, Jersey-style proportions, you’re gonna have to watch me.”

Steve wrinkled his nose.  “Okay, first of all, am I a machine, an animal or a Neanderthal?  You can’t keep switching species.  Second, I am NOT your babysitter.”

“No, you’re my partner, and we’re supposed to have each other’s backs.  I need you to watch mine tonight, and you can do that by keeping me too distracted to think about anything other than food and fellowship.”  Danny grinned and put his hands on Steve’s shoulders.  “Come on, babe.  Do me a solid and let me stay.”

There was something off about Danny’s motive, but Steve couldn’t make out what it was.  It didn’t matter though; if his friend needed his support, he would happily oblige.  Besides, it wasn’t a chore to watch Danny’s backside; quite the contrary.  Steve nodded slowly.  “If it’ll make you feel better, I guess you can stay.”

“It will, believe me.”  He spun Steve around and steered him into the living room.  “So here’s the plan: you go ahead and relax, maybe nap off the alcohol I can smell on your breath.  I’ll fix dinner, and while I’m doing that, you can get started with your special assignment.”

“What assignment?”

Danny shoved him, and he landed on the couch.  “Wait there.”  He ran back into the kitchen to grab his overnight bag.  From it, he retrieved a handful of DVDs and spread them out on the coffee table.

Steve leaned forward to look at the array.  “Comic book movies?  And old cartoons?”  He picked up a worn case featuring a hero dressed in blue, carrying a shield that resembled the American flag.  The copyright was circa 1966.  

“You got it, Captain America.  We need to research the roles if we’re gonna do right by these kids, wouldn’t you agree?”  Danny waved his hand across the assembled hero movies like a game show model.  “You can pick the first one we watch and get started while I’m cooking.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Absolutely!”  Danny looked like he was getting far too much enjoyment from this situation.

Steve melted into the cushions and scratched his chin.  “I don’t know.  That one, I guess.”  He pointed to an animated Avengers series that had been produced within the last decade.  It didn’t matter which one he watched; now that he was sitting down, Danny’s nap suggestion was starting to sound appealing.

“Okay.  Settle in; I’ll bring the food out as soon as it’s ready.”  Danny switched on the TV and popped in the first disc.  As soon as the opening theme song began, he disappeared from the room.  

Steve heard him puttering around the kitchen, and his stomach growled.  He hoped it wouldn’t take too long.  As soon as he’d stopped moving, he realized how hungry he was.  He was also beginning to regret that drink; it made him nauseous and slow.  He was sure he was missing something about this whole invasion, but he couldn’t place what it was.  

He slouched and stretched his legs on top of the table.  Then he sighed and closed his eyes, deciding that he’d figure it out later.

Steve’s light snooze ended when the delicious smell of grilled chicken and vegetables danced under his nose.  He blinked and found Danny, clad in a red apron, offering him a plate and a napkin.  

“Rise and shine, Super SEAL.  Dinner is served.”

Steve clamped his lips together to stop himself from salivating at the sizzling meal.  “This smells amazing, Danno.”  He cleared some space on the coffee table for their dishes and moved over.  Normally, he wouldn’t allow anything more than movie snacks to be consumed in the living room, but he was too tired and hungry to relocate to the dining area.

Danny chuckled and sat down next to him, closer than was strictly necessary given the size of the couch, but Steve didn’t object.  They ate in companionable silence.

After they cleaned up, Danny changed into a baggy, grey t-shirt and flannel pajama pants and snagged a pillow and blanket from a storage closet.  Then he switched the cartoon series they’d been half watching with one of the live action movies.  Steve pretended to object, just to get a rise out of his opinionated colleague, but they were both feeling the effects of the meal and the late hour to give it much effort.

The SEAL shifted to sit on the end of the couch and allowed Danny to lie down and take up the rest of the space.  He was facing the television, likely anticipating that the movie would put him to sleep.  That gave Steve unspoken permission to go upstairs to bed whenever he was ready.

The first few scenes of the movie were cast with dim lighting, and Steve used that to his advantage, sneaking studious glances at his co-worker.  With a full stomach, the residual effects from the whiskey were dissipating, helping the wheels in his brain resume (almost) full functionality.  

He hated to admit it, but the day’s events _had_ been stressful.  If Danny hadn’t come over, he might very well have had more to drink, which would have made him ill, mentally and physically.  Hangover or no, he’d likely be in a bad mood for the next few days if left to his own devices.  

Cue his best friend, who had accurately predicted that he’d be melancholy and resistant to reach out to his Ohana for support.  Knowing this, he had come armed with food – always a good offering – and an excuse that preyed upon Steve’s desire to help others in order to get in the door.

Steve stole another peek at his partner, debating whether to be touched or annoyed with him.  Danny hadn’t pressured him to talk, but it was only a matter of time.  He rarely let things go until he was satisfied, but Steve didn’t feel like discussing his feelings tonight.

Halfway through the movie, he touched Danny’s leg to get his attention.  “Hey.  I’m gonna go to bed.”

He expected the detective to try and talk him out of it, perhaps using their need to do “research” to argue with him, but to his surprise, Danny nodded.  “M’kay.  Will it bother you if I stay up to finish the movie?”

It was a possibility, but Steve didn’t want to open that can of worms either.  “No, it’s fine.  Goodnight, Danno.”

“Night, Steven.”

He hesitated a moment more, anticipating some last quip from the Jersey cop, but he didn’t look away from the movie.  Steve pulled himself up and trudged up the stairs to his room, more than ready to put this day behind him.

* * *

The next morning, Steve woke and was amazed to discover that he felt refreshed and peaceful.  He had lain awake for another hour after he’d said goodnight, his mind churning with conflicting thoughts and feelings, but the knowledge that Danny was downstairs, readily available if he needed anything, had calmed him.  The work day may have ended on a sour note, but in spite of Steve’s resistance, Danny’s cooking and company were good remedies for the lingering heartache.

He craned his neck to look at the clock on the bedside table.  It was only four thirty-seven.  Most days, he would roll over and go back to sleep, waiting until six to get up for a swim, but his military-honed, “something’s wrong” senses were tingling.  

Steve tossed aside his blanket and sat up, eyes straining in the darkness and ears tuned to listen for any unusual noise.  Nothing in the room appeared out of order and, except for the waves crashing along his private beach, there were no sounds to indicate a cause for alarm.  Nonetheless, he got up, threw on an old Navy shirt and some athletic shorts, and crept out of the room.

The SEAL paused at the top of the stairs, and it was there that he discovered what was troubling him.  It wasn’t the presence of noise that was concerning, but the _absence_ of one – specifically, the sound of the television.  Danny had difficulty sleeping at Steve’s house, claiming that the ocean kept him awake.  He compensated by keeping the T.V. on and letting late night infomercials lull him to sleep, and as far as Steve knew, that habit hadn’t changed.

Steve tiptoed down into the living room. “Danny?” he whispered.  In the event that his partner _had_ managed to sleep without the aid of an appliance, Steve didn’t want to startle him, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he found out for certain.

“Danny?  You there, buddy?”

The pillow and blanket were folded and left on the couch.  Danny’s overnight bag was on the floor, unzipped with his work clothes sticking out of it, and his cell phone was sitting on the coffee table, but the man himself was not around.  Steve checked the bathroom, but he wasn’t there either.  

The kitchen yielded the first clues to the investigation.  Steve’s old, yellow tea kettle was sitting on the stove rather than its designated cabinet, and steam rose from the open lid.  Next to it on the counter was a box of organic black tea, which didn’t belong to him, and several torn and crumpled wrappers from the tea bags lay strewn across the island.

While examining the evidence and attempting to determine when and why his buddy might have begun drinking the bitter herbs, he became aware of a low hum, barely perceptible above the gentle breeze and the lapping water.  Steve followed the sound out to the lanai and into the backyard, his path illuminated by a porch light.  

Steve found his friend lounging in one of the Adirondack chairs, arms dangling over the sides and his legs stretched out in front of him.  A coffee mug, a workbook and a pen were sitting on the table between the two chairs, but abandoned at the moment while Danny hummed a somber-sounding tune.

“Danny?  What are you doing up?”

Danny’s eyes snapped open, and he jumped as Steve circled around to sit in the other chair.  “Dammit, Steven!  You know I hate it when you sneak up on me.”

Steve’s lips formed a small grin.  “Sorry.”

Danny reached for his cup.  “Forget it.”  His gaze roved up and down Steve’s form.  “You’re not going for a run this early are you?  It’s still dark out.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.  But I asked you first.  What are you doing out here?”  When Danny shifted to face him, Steve noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and reached the obvious conclusion.  “Didn’t you get _any_ sleep?”

“A bit.”  Danny sipped his tea and made a disgruntled face.  “The waves woke me, and I forgot to pack those noise-canceling headphones you gave me a few years ago.  Well, that – and I spent half the night worried about my boy.”

Steve folded his arms and huffed.  “So this IS about me and Catherine?”

“Hmm?”

Steve groaned and sank in his chair.  He didn’t want to do this, but if they _had_ to have this conversation, he figured it would be to his advantage to take control of it from the start.  “Don’t play stupid.  You came here last night to check up on me because of her.”

Danny smirked.  “Figured it out, did you?  Took you long enough.”

Steve glared at him.  “I’m fine, Danny.  It’s still - I don’t know.  But it’s fine.”

Danny put his cup back down, and considered Steve’s assertion.  “So you say.  But – it doesn’t have to be.”

“I don't’ understand.”

“You say you’re fine, as if you’re okay with Catherine flitting in and out of your life without warning.”  Danny shrugged.  “Perhaps you are, to some extent.  But I was hoping you’d know that it’s okay NOT to be fine, to admit that you still love her.”

Steve knit his brows.  “Danny-”

He held up a hand.  “Let me finish, please.  What I’m trying to tell you is that I understand.”

Steve rolled his wrist.  “Meaning…”

Danny leaned away from Steve.  “You know my history with Rachel.  We’re ALWAYS gonna have some kind of drama going on.  For my part, I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive her for keeping Charlie from me.  But…”  He shook his head.  “There’s a part of me that will never stop loving her.  It’s the part that remembers losing my breath, when she got out of the car after rear-ending me.  And the part that can still recall her smile when she held Grace for the first time.  Or every time we kissed, or hugged, or danced.  It doesn’t change the fact that we can never have that again, that it’ll never work between us.  I had to learn to live with the good and the bad, and be okay with both.”

Danny reached across the table to touch Steve’s hand.  “Maybe you and Catherine weren’t meant to be.  And maybe you’re okay with that.  But it’s also okay to admit that you still care about her, or that it still hurts when she shows up.  You don’t have to pretend otherwise – with _anyone_ – but especially around me.  You don’t have to shut me out.”

“Strong words, from a guy who’s been doing the exact same thing,” Steve countered.

Danny closed his eyes and wiped a hand across his face.  Steve wasn’t as well versed in reading minuscule facial cues as the detective, but he knew Danny well enough to recognize when he was about to give in to something against his will.

He exhaled heavily, and Steve resisted the urge to gloat.

Danny picked up his workbook and flipped it over so that the cover was showing.  The bold font proclaimed the title in blue letters,  Recovering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and beneath that in italics was a subtitle, _Healing for the Mind and Body_.

Seeing that erased the smirk from Steve’s face.  “Danno?”

Danny hunched over, elbows on his knees.  “Do you remember,” he began, “when we raided that cocaine warehouse a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah,” Steve acknowledged.  “As far as jobs go, that one was fairly routine.”

Danny glowered at the ground.  “Except for the part where you got shot!”

“I was wearing my vest,” Steve reminded him.  “I barely bruised.”

Danny hopped to his feet and began to walk around.  “That doesn’t change what happened!  I was supposed to have your six, and I – I just froze!”

“You were exactly where I told you to be.  You and Chin had to come in from the south entrance, remember?  You weren’t in a good position to see the perp hiding behind the crate.”

“So what?  You were hurt, and there was nothing I could do to help you!  Just like on the plane…”

Steve knew then where this was headed.  He stood up and stepped to block Danny’s path.  “Hey, there’s nothing you could have done to prevent that.  And in the end, you saved me.  I’m alive right now because you risked your life to land the plane on the beach, AND you gave me half your liver.”

“Which you conveniently seem to forget,” Danny said.  He poked a finger in Steve’s chest and frowned up at him.  “You’re not supposed to drink hard liquor yet, McGarrett.  I didn’t bring it up last night because of everything that happened, but don’t think you’re off the hook for it.”

“Can we get back on track, please?”  Steve touched Danny on the shoulder.  “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“It’s not about blame.”  At Steve’s skeptical look, he amended, “Okay, it’s not _entirely_ about blame.”

“Then what is it?”

Danny ran his fingers through his hair and backed away to shuffle around once more.  “Steve, you know how my mind works.  I told you how I’m always running through the worst case scenarios in my head.”  He shivered and rubbed his arms.  “I hate to tell you this, but over the years, I’ve imagined your death a thousand times in a thousand various ways.”  

He permitted a tiny smirk to sneak through.  “A good third of those were times I wanted to kill you myself.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Danny chuckled, but then became solemn again.  “I know the whole thing sounds morbid, but sometimes it actually works in my favor.  On the job, it helps me anticipate what might go wrong, so that I can figure out what I need to do to prevent those things from happening.”

He stopped pacing and went unnaturally still.  A haze clouded his eyes.  “But that day, it was almost a reality, not just a fear.  I remember everything.”  He took a shaky breath.  “I remember the color of your skin, getting paler and paler from blood loss.  And the blood – oh, god!  It was everywhere! I remember the smell of it, and how it felt on my hands.

“And for a moment, I remember thinking that if you were going to die, then I didn’t want to live either.”

This was all new information to Steve.  The team told him everything that had happened while he’d drifted in and out of consciousness in the plane, but it had been done through verbal and written reports, with a detachment that wouldn’t paint him as a victim.  On occasion, the others had tossed out bits and pieces of their thoughts and feelings – their fears for having almost lost their leader, and thankfulness that he had lived.  But this was the first time Danny had said anything more about it, other than to vent about Steve’s lack of self-preservation and self-care.  “Danny, you can’t mean that.  What about your kids?  Or Melissa?”

“I said, ‘ _for a moment_.’  I wouldn’t have done anything drastic or stupid.  I love you, Steven, but I would NEVER leave my kids.  And as for Melissa – we broke up.”

“What?”  Steve gaped; this was a big day for unforeseen revelations.  “When?”

“A couple of weeks ago, around the same time this shit started.”  Danny swung a lazy arm through the air.  “Don’t worry about it.  The breakup was a long time coming; it would have happened eventually anyway.  But it _was_ bad timing.  Her leaving brought out more baggage.”  He sounded nonchalant about it, but his shoulders sagged beneath the extra weight of the stress.  

Carrying that weight must have drained the last of his energy; Danny lumbered to his chair and collapsed.  He sighed and buried his head in his hands.  “That raid – the location, you getting shot; even though you weren’t hurt, seeing all that triggered something.  It’s become really hard to sleep most nights.  And when I DO sleep, I have chronic nightmares.  I’ve been reliving that day – the crash, you nearly dying – over and over and over again.”

Steve remained standing, but he inched closer to his partner.  He wanted to reach out and touch Danny, or say something to help, but he bit his tongue and forced himself to wait.  Danny’s words were coming out faster, and Steve sensed that he needed to get it all out.

“And then I started losing my temper – more than usual, I mean.  No one at work said anything, so I figured it wasn’t a big deal, that no one noticed.  I told myself it would all go away.  I just needed to power through it.

“But then, one morning, Grace and Charlie were fighting about something; I can’t even remember what – something small and stupid.  I hadn’t slept, I was trying to get ready for work, and we were running late, so I was already stressed out.  I kept telling them to knock it off, but they wouldn’t stop.  And then Charlie spilled his cereal all over the kitchen floor.”

Danny’s fingers tightened around his skull, his fingers pulling at the strands of his hair.  “I lost it.  I started shouting at him, at both of them.  And then I raised my hand…”  He started to choke up.  “I was _this_ close to hitting him.  Luckily, I snapped out of it before I did.  But I remember how terrified he looked; Grace too.  And I knew that was the last straw, that I needed help.”

“I’m so sorry, Danny.”  Steve couldn’t resist anymore.  He took Danny by the wrists and hauled him to his feet, and then into his arms – one arm wrapped around his slim waist, the other around his broad upper back.  The physical connection alerted him to another overlooked symptom – Danny was thinner than he once was, not so much as to merit alarm, but it was another red flag, one that Steve regretted neglecting.   

Steve dropped his chin to rest between Danny’s neck and shoulder.  “I wish you had said something sooner.  I would have been there for you.  I would have helped you.”

Danny didn’t respond for a long while.  He had tensed up at the initial contact, but gradually, he relaxed into Steve’s embrace and found the strength to return the hug.

“You can help me _now_ , by keeping yourself safe,” he whispered at last.  

“What’s that?”  Steve released him enough to look at him, but he did not remove his arms from their places around his body.

Danny gazed into his eyes and mumbled, “In my nightmares, you don’t make it.  I can’t save you, and you die in that plane.  Sometimes we both die in the crash.”  He bowed his head and touched his forehead to Steve’s chest.  “I’m working through the PTSD with my therapist, and we’re trying out some anti-anxiety medication.”  There was a hint of scorn in his voice when he mentioned the drugs.  “It’s been going okay, but there’s still a lot to work through.  The nightmares brought up a lot of other stuff, issues I’d been struggling with and suppressing for a long time.  So it’s going to take some time to unravel.”

His head snapped up.  He fixed Steve with a challenging glare.  “And before you ask, I’m clear to work.  Other than that raid, I haven’t suffered any flashbacks or triggers or whatever on the job, so the shrink hasn’t put me on any restrictions.  If there had been any cause for alarm, you would have been notified before now.”

The lines on his face softened, even as his fingers clenched around the fabric of Steve’s shirt.  “You say you want to help me?  Then take care of yourself!  Tell me if you’re hurting, physically or otherwise.  Listen to your doctor’s orders about the liver; I’m not giving you any more of mine.  And for the love of god, think twice before you jump into any dangerous situations!  I know we need to do our jobs, but will you at least consider my concerns before you do anything stupid and reckless?”

Steve mulled it over.  “I will on the condition that you go back to telling me _everything_ that’s going on in your head, like you used to.”

“You sure you want that?”  Danny started to smile.  “You’re not gonna tell me to shut up when I complain about your driving, or your deplorable taste in pizza, or-”

“As long as you get to the important matters as well,” Steve interrupted, “then I will gladly put up with your whining about the other stuff.”

“ _Whining_?”  Danny flailed to extract himself and put distance between them.  “It’s not whining when there’s a ninety-eight percent chance that your habits will get us arrested, maimed or killed!”  The words were heated, but the smile was widening with the ease of their familiar banter.

Steve planted his hands on his hips.  “How would my choice of pizza have _any_ of those consequences?”

Danny waggled a finger at him.  “Maybe not here, but where I’m from, you’d be thrown into the stocks for having pineapple and pizza in the same shopping cart, never mind eating them together.  And I’d be guilty by association.”

“I doubt anyone would hold you accountable for something like that,” Steve said with a snicker.  “There’s still too much Jersey in you for anyone to suspect the truth.”

“Oh yeah?  What truth is that?”

“That you secretly love Hawaii and everything in it, including pineapple and ham pizza.”

“That’s slander, McGarrett!  And I will kick your ass if you try to spread that around.”  Danny grabbed his cup and workbook.  He dumped out the tea, and then went over to put his arm around Steve’s waist, turning him so they could walk back into the house, side-by-side.  “Actually, you wouldn't happen to have any ham, do you?  I could go for a ham and cheese omelet.”

Steve dropped his arm across Danny’s shoulders, enjoying the closeness.  “I might,” he answered, “but I think you should try to get some more sleep.”

“It’s a lost cause,” Danny said.  “There’s not a lot of caffeine in this tea, but I’ve been drinking it for hours.  I’m wide awake.”  

They went into the kitchen, and Danny cleaned up the wrappers he’d left laying around.  

“Since when are you a tea drinker?” Steve asked.

Danny grimaced and set his cup aside.  “I’m not, and by that I mean that while I do consume it, I don’t like it.  It’s one of the things I’m supposed to try to get my sleep schedule back in order – cut back on the three pots of coffee I’ve been living on.”

“Three pots?”

“I’m down to two.  Speaking of, how about you make us some?  You’re better at it than I am.”  He opened up the fridge and gathered up the ingredients he needed.  “I’ll make those omelets, and then we can watch the sun come up over breakfast.”

“Sounds romantic,” Steve joked without thinking.  He found his bag of coffee beans and poured some in the grinder.

 _CRASH!_  

Steve virtually leapt out of his skin and whirled to find Danny scrambling to pick up the frying pan and plastic bowl he’d dropped.

“Sorry,” Danny mumbled.  “My hand slipped.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said.  “But are you sure you don’t want to lie down for a bit?  Even if it wasn’t early, there’s no rush to get to the office.”

Danny kept his back to Steve as he cracked the eggs into the bowl.  “Nope.  I’m good.  But since you brought it up, what happened with Rollins?  Did you hand over the case?”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted with a groan.  “She said something about it being part of a larger investigation, but she wouldn’t give me any details.”

There was a pause when he turned on the grinder.  When he shut it off, Danny asked, “And you’re okay with that?”

Steve dumped the grinds into the coffee press.  “I’m gonna have to be.  The C.I.A. would have taken it without my authorization anyway.  We could keep working it, but I doubt we’ll get anywhere. No point in wasting time on dead ends and uncooperative witnesses.  Besides, I’m sure we’re due for some new cases anytime now.”

“Okay, if you say so.”  Danny circled around the island to turn on the stove and get the pan ready.

The SEAL backed up to give him some space.  “I know that tone, Danny.  Whatever you have to say, just say it.”

Danny put a dollop of butter in the pan and swirled it around.  Once it had melted, he poured the egg mixture in and stood at the ready, spatula in hand.  “Fine.  What I really want to know is – would you have turned over the case if it wasn’t Rollins that asked?”

Steve grabbed a coffee mug for himself and almost slammed it next to the press.  “That’s not fair, Danny.”  

“Sorry, but I think it’s a legitimate question.  I get that it isn’t easy, but I want to make sure you’re not creating additional stress for yourself.  First of all, you can’t let your feelings for her stop us from doing our jobs, and second, I hate the idea that she might keep showing up unexpectedly to mess with you.”

“She’s NOT messing with me; she was doing _her_ job – which I am also more than capable of doing regardless of her interference.  But as long as we’re on the subject, what the hell happened between you two in your office?”  Steve encroached into Danny’s personal bubble.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were about to cry when you left the palace.”

Danny brandished the spatula like a weapon and said, “That’s between me and her.  And you’ll leave it alone if you know what’s good for you, McGarrett.”  He lowered the utensil and redirected his focus back to his task.  He let out a dramatic heave.  “Let’s just drop the whole thing.  Can you grab some plates, please?”

Steve wasn’t satisfied with the abrupt conclusion.  He suspected Danny had more he wanted to say about the Catherine/case dilemma, and he hadn’t told Steve the whole story about what was plaguing him.  Nonetheless, Steve perceived that his friend had reached an emotional limit, one that was shorter than normal due to the lack of sleep.

Steve filed everything away in the recesses of his mind, to be revisited at a later date, and went to get the requested dishes.

The two of them ate their breakfast in the dining room and watched as the sun rose over the water in a kaleidoscope of warm colors.  Its rays shone through the open windows and danced like diamonds across the sea.  Neither Steve nor Danny spoke much during the meal, but the serene stillness was comfortable – the kind of quiet that was borne from affection and contentment.

Steve didn’t consider himself a romantic in the traditional sense, but he mused that this was a rather nice way to start the day.

“So,” Danny started once they’d finished eating, “I was thinking…”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Danno.”

Danny kicked Steve’s shin under the table with his bare foot.  “Shut it.  I was thinking that since we’re off the Meier case, and we don’t have any others pending as of right now, maybe we could call the rest of the team and do something else instead of going into the office.”

That wasn’t a bad idea.  Five-0 was ALWAYS on call for new cases or as backup for HPD, so if they weren’t in the middle of an investigation or had reports to complete, it wasn’t unusual for one or more of them to take off during the week.  And it had been some time since they’d relaxed together as a family.

“What did you have in mind?”

Danny gazed out the window at the beach.  “I was going to wait until tomorrow to introduce you guys around at the children’s hospital, but today would be a good day for it too.”

Steve thought it over and nodded.  The prospect of dressing up like Captain America was still a little silly to him, but if it made the kids - and Danny - happy, then he would indulge him.  “I suppose that would work, if the others are up for it. “

“I’ll need to pick up Grace and Charlie from school,” Danny muttered, thinking out loud.  “I know Charlie will want to come too; he’ll want to see his friends.  But until then, we can all hang out, maybe go surfing for a bit, have a picnic lunch or something.  And I can give you the full rundown of who we’ll be working with and what to expect when we go visit.”

Steve gawked at him.  “Did I hear you right?   _You_ want to go surfing?”

Danny shrugged.  “This project is very important to me, and everyone’s agreed to help.  It’s only fair that I repay the favor.  Well, that – and I was kind of a dick yesterday.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Steve assured him.  As far as Danny tantrums go, that had been pretty tame.  After a pause, he asked, “Does the teasing really bother you?”

Danny stared at the floor.  “Sometimes, but it’s more because of this.”  He knocked his fist lightly against the side of his skull.  “There’s a lot of fucked up junk rolling around in there right now.”  He tried to smile.  “So how ‘bout it?”

Steve stood and gathered the dishes.  “I’ll make some calls.”

* * *

As it turned out, Danny wasn’t the only one eager for a break.  When Steve informed the rest of the task force that they were no longer investigating the Meier murder and pitched Danny’s suggestion, they unanimously jumped on board.

Per their arrangements, the team congregated at Kono’s favorite surfing spot on the North Shore, bringing with them snacks and supplies, as well as the proper attire and gear in the event they were summoned for a case.  Thankfully, none came in, and Five-0 spent an enjoyable morning swimming, surfing and relaxing in the sun.  Even Jerry and Max were coerced into leaving their preferred indoor activities to hang out.

During lunch, Danny took the opportunity to apologize for snapping at the group the previous evening.  He explained that he was going through a personal rough patch (he didn’t get into specifics), and - as a result - was not getting enough sleep, thus making him hyper-sensitive.  They readily forgave him, and assured their friend that they were always available should he need anything.

He thanked them for their offers but politely declined, saying that he was taking care of it and had all that he needed to get through.  He’d glanced at Steve when he said that, a soft smile on his lips.  Steve grinned back, a heat filling his body that had nothing to do with the sparkling sun and balmy breeze.

Around two o’clock, Danny packed up his things and left to pick up his children from school.  The rest of the group promised to meet them at Kamekona’s for an early dinner.

Later, a tired but satisfied team, plus Adam and Chin’s niece Sara, turned up at the Honolulu Shriner’s Hospital for Children.  Had Danny not called ahead, the nursing staff might have been alarmed by the unscheduled intrusion of armed police officers, but his foresight ensured that they were well received.  Danny signed them in at the entrance and passed out visitor’s badges.

“I talked to one of the dads on the way here,” Danny informed them.  “Adrian Paoa; his fifteen year old son Ty is coordinating the planning committee.  They’re waiting for us in one of the second floor family rooms.”  He led the way down the hall towards the elevators.

“Danno, is Ty-Ty feeling better?” Charlie called.  The boy was riding atop Steve’s shoulders, his little hands holding onto the SEAL’s chin for safety.

“Yeah, buddy.  His daddy told me his new medicine is helping a lot.”

Steve kept one hand around Charlie’s ankles to hold him in place and reached up with the other to tickle his side.  “And I bet he’ll feel even better when he sees you.”

“S-stop it, Uncle Steve!” Charlie squealed.

“Hey, be careful with him!” Danny chided.  “If you drop him-”

“I won’t,” Steve retorted.  “Seriously Danno, you worry too much.  I’d never let anything happen to him.”  He raised his hand as though reciting a pledge.  “A Commander always protects his cadets.  Isn’t that right, Charlie?”

“Yes sir, Uncle Steve!”

The company stopped before the elevators; Lou pressed the _UP_ arrow.

“Cadet?” Danny repeated.  “No, absolutely not!  You are NOT drafting my son into that insane world of yours.”  He flicked Steve on the forehead.

The lift doors opened with a _ting_ , and everyone filtered in.  

“I have to, now that Gracie’s become too cool for me.”  Steve flashed the texting teenager a hurt look.  She merely rolled her eyes.

The others copied her as the partners continued to bicker throughout the short ride, though they were also quietly laughing at their antics.  The elevator came to a stop, and they followed Danny to their destination.

Though the entire building had something of a somber feel to it (no amount of bright colors and overflowing toy boxes could disguise the ugly truth - that children died within its walls every day), laughter and animated debates could be heard coming from the family room.  Danny knocked on the open door and entered first.

“Hey there, kiddos!” he said.

“Danno!” a few of them exclaimed.  Others waved and greeted Charlie.

Steve lowered himself to one knee and lifted Charlie from his shoulders.  As soon as his feet hit the floor, the boy took off to say hello to his friends, leaving his “uncle” to study their surroundings.

He supposed the place was cozy enough.  One side of the room had a completely open view to the outside, which provided its residents with some much-needed sunshine during the day.  The other three walls were decorated with soothing landscape photos and inspirational quotes.  A matching furniture set consisting of a royal-blue sofa, loveseat and two recliners lined the perimeter.  A cushioned rocking chair was positioned in one corner, and a cylindrical toy bin took up another.

Ten children, all approximately between the ages of twelve and sixteen, were seated in groups of two, either on the furniture, the floor, or - in the case of one of the older boys - a wheelchair.  Each of them were equipped with a notepad and a pencil.  They were writing or drawing under the watchful eyes of two nurses, a man and a woman, and a dark skinned gentleman wearing jeans and a black polo shirt.

“Danny,” the man hailed.  He extended his arm out for a handshake.

“Adrian,” Danny returned.  “Good to see you.”  He raised his voice to get the kids’ attention.  “Hey guys.  I have some very special people I’d like you all to meet.  These are my friends: Steve, Chin, Sara, Abby, Lou, Kono, Adam, Max and Jerry.”  He pointed to each one as they were introduced, and they smiled and waved when their names were called.  “And of course you remember Charlie and Grace.  They’re all here to help out with the event.”

The group responded with cries of delight.  

“How about you show us what you’ve been working on?”

“Hold up a second,” Mister Paoa interjected.  He kneeled before the boy in the wheelchair.  “Ty, can you take charge here?  I’d like to talk to Detective Williams for a while, if that’s alright with both of you.”

“Sure, Dad.”

Danny glanced at his friends.  “You guys go ahead and get acquainted.  We’ll be back.”  He and Adrian left the room.

“Uncle Steve!”  Charlie skipped over to the man and took his hand to drag him around.  “This is my friend Ty-Ty.”

The teenager rolled forward.  He bore a strong resemblance to his father, but his curly black hair was limp and stringy, and his skin was gaunt with a yellowish twinge.  “Ty Paoa.  It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”  He beamed at Charlie and ruffled the child’s mop of brown hair.  “You were right, pal.  He looks like he’ll make an excellent Captain America.”

“So I’ve been told,” said Steve, doing his best to stay composed.  

Of the ten kids, only three of the them didn’t have outward signs of illness or injury, though that didn’t mean they weren’t afflicted in some way.  But apart from Ty’s sickly appearance, there was a younger boy with a broken leg, an older girl wearing a neck brace, and two boys and a girl who were obviously the recipients of chemotherapy.  The last girl had injuries that suggested she’d been the victim of physical abuse.

Steve owed Danny a massive apology.  He felt like an ass for arguing with him over this project, and for such petty reasons.

“You’re Mister Williams’ partner, right?” asked Ty.

“That’s correct.”

Ty looked to the other children.  “Well, that settles it.  I know we were thinking of having Danno play Wolverine, but I think it might work out better to have him as Bucky Barnes.”  There were murmurs of approval from all of them.

“Who?”  Steve remembered the name from the movie he and Danny had watched, but he hadn’t really paid enough attention to recall who he was in the film, or his significance to the story.

“Bucky Barnes, a.k.a. The Winter Soldier,” Ty answered.  “He’s Steve Rogers’ - Captain America’s - best friend.”

“Their relationship is one of the primary plot points of our play,” the boy with the broken leg elaborated.  “Mister Williams talks about you a lot; says you’re _his_ best friend.  So it makes sense to take advantage of your existing rapport.”

“You may regret that,” Grace chimed in.  “Danno and Uncle Steve argue all the time.”

“Well, they’ve got a couple of fight scenes in the play,” said Ty.  “So that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And what about us?” inquired Abby.  “How can we help?”

Ty adjusted the position of his chair so he could better see the battered girl.  “Terry, you got the list?”

She nodded mutely.

“We made a checklist and an action plan of everything we need.  We have a couple more roles to fill for the play, but we also need help with designing props, costumes, a set, other activities…”

Jerry raised his hand.  “I’m pretty good at putting together costumes and accessories.  I’d be happy to volunteer for that.”

“As would I,” concurred Max.

“I can do make-up,” Grace offered.

“Cool!  Then you’ll want to talk to Noah and Layla.”  Ty pointed out the boy and girl sitting on the loveseat.  “They’re in charge of that stuff.”

“Awesome.”  Jerry, Max and Grace sat down on the floor near them and began to ask questions about their ideas.

“Who else do we need to cast for the performance?”

Terry consulted her list.  “Um, if Mister Steve and Danno are going to be Captain America and Bucky, then we just need Iron Man, Ms. Marvel, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Wolverine.”  Her voice was barely audible.  

Kono advanced and squatted down in front of her.  “Can you tell us a little more about that?”  Adam and Abby joined her.

“We need more volunteers for the games,” said another boy, waving his arm for attention.  Lou, Chin and Sara walked over to him and submitted themselves for his consideration.

“I guess that leaves us,” said Danny.  He and Mister Paoa had snuck back in while everyone was occupied.  He sank into the rocking chair and motioned Ty and Steve over.  Charlie crawled onto his lap and snuggled in his arms.  “How’s the script coming, Ty?”

“Connie and I are like seventy-five percent done.  My dad can give you what we have if you want to start practicing.  And I think he’s finished choreographing the duels.”

“Adrian’s a martial arts instructor,” Danny explained to Steve.  “He’s designing some basic fight scenes to make it more exciting.”

“Ah.”

Ty yawned.  “Sorry.  Seeing Charlie like that is making me tired too.”

Steve checked his watch.  “It IS getting late.”

“Indeed.”  Adrian approached and squeezed his son’s hand.  “And it’s almost time for your treatment.”  He smiled apologetically.  “I’m sorry you came all this way for such a short visit.  Are you free tomorrow - maybe early in the afternoon?  The kids are going to resume working on their assignments then, and a lot of the parents and other volunteers will be here as well.  It’d be good for your team to meet some of them.”

“As long as we’re not called in for a case, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Steve said, nodding.

“Great.”  Adrian shook Steve’s hand.  “I can’t tell you how much we all appreciate this.  Everyone’s really looking forward to it.  Between the play and all the other activities we’ve got planned, it’s like the hospital is getting its own private comic convention.  It may seem odd, but these kinds of events have a magic that’s healing in its own way - helps these kids get through the tough times.”

“We’re glad to be of service.  And if you or the foundation need any assistance in the future, my team will be more than willing to volunteer again.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.”  Adrian raised his voice.  “Okay kids, I think it's about time to head back to your rooms for the evening.  Your families are going to want to say goodnight.  Can we all show our appreciation for the Five-0 Task Force for their time?”

They applauded, and then started to gather up their supplies.  Steve smiled as he caught every member of his team passing out their cards with whispered assurances that the kids could call or email them any time.

Danny rose to his feet, being careful not to jostle his bleary-eyed son.  He nudged Steve with his hip.  “I knew I could count on you guys.”  He smiled softly.  “Thanks, babe.”

Steve bumped him back.  “Yeah, well - I’m glad you talked us into this.  These kids are worth it.”  He slipped an arm around Danny’s waist.  “And so are you.”


	4. Shields and Civil Wars

“Please don’t do this.”

Danny stood several yards across from Steve, silent and motionless.  His face was contorted with madness.  

“You’re my friend,” Steve pleaded.  “And I don’t want to hurt you!”

Danny charged.  When he was in range, he curled his fingers into fists and executed a rapid-fire combo of jabs, hooks and crosses at Steve’s head and torso.

Steve blocked most of the strikes with his hands and forearms.  Others he parried, redirecting the blows away while attempting to land a few hits of his own.  Occasionally, he tossed in a low kick or two to throw Danny off balance, but he recovered from them quickly and showed no signs of being hurt.

The fight came to an abrupt end when Danny caught Steve’s wrist with both hands and rotated his arm.  Steve performed a perfect side flip, giving the illusion that Danny had used inhuman strength to throw him.  He landed in a crouch and dropped to a knee, his head down.  His eyes met Danny’s.

Danny maintained a tight grip on his wrist with one hand.  The other had released him and was a hair’s breadth away from Steve’s neck, poised to punch him in the throat.  

Their audience applauded.  The partners abandoned the ruse of attempting to kill each other and smirked at one another.  

“You and your fancy flips,” Danny complained.  “Show off.”  He helped Steve to his feet.

It had been two weeks since the team met with the kids coordinating the event, and they were already working hard on their assigned tasks, using much of their free time outside of work to get together with one another or the other volunteers.  Those who would be in the play were learning their lines, blocking and fight choreography, while others were busy making props and sets for the younger children to decorate.  They had about two months before the big day, and that time would go by fast.

Luckily, it had been pretty quiet for Five-0.  Their days had been filled primarily with paperwork and a couple of open-and-shut homicide cases.  This had granted Steve and Danny the opportunity to meet up with Adrian and Ty Paoa nearly every day after dinner to read through the partially completed script and practice their fight scenes.  

That morning, Danny had convinced a few of them to congregate at Steve’s place to watch some more movies and squeeze in some practice (though part of his reasoning was so that he’d have something to occupy his mind, since it was Rachel’s weekend to have their children).  Chin, Abby, Max and Lou were busy with family activities, but Jerry, Kono and Adam were free.  The three of them had shown up that afternoon and sprawled out on a blanket in the yard, while Steve and Danny sparred.

“You guys picked that up quick,” Jerry commented.  “Although, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you really _were_ whaling on each other.”

“Tempting as it is sometimes, it’s all part of the act.”  Danny wiped the sweat from his face with the bottom of his t-shirt.  “As long as you remember what to do and what’s coming, it’s not too hard to hold back your strength or miss by a little bit, and yet make it look real.”  He picked up the water bottle he’d left lying in the grass and twisted the cap off.

“It’s kind of fun,” said Adam.  He and Kono had decided to take on the roles of Iron Man and Black Widow respectively, and likewise had a routine to master.  “It’s almost like learning a dance.”

Danny choked on his water.

“Woah!  You okay there?”  Steve slapped his hand across Danny’s upper back to help expel the excess fluid.  

“Y-yeah.  I’m fine.”

“It’s getting dark,” Jerry informed them.  “Maybe we should start a movie before it gets too late.”

“I’m gonna need a shower first,” said Danny.  

Steve peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt and draped it over one of the Adirondack chairs to air dry.  “Me too.  But since I only need three minutes, you can use it first.  I’ll order pizzas.”

“No pineapple,” Danny commanded.  He averted his eyes and fled into the house.

“Yes, dear,” Steve called after him.  He thought he saw Kono shoot his partner a funny, calculating look, but she didn’t say anything.  He brushed it off as nothing.

Both of them were showered and redressed in casual clothes by the time the pizza had arrived.  Danny had taken a little longer to wash up than average, but he made up for it by paying for their delivered dinner, and the five of them settled in to watch Captain America’s second live-action adventure.  Adam, Kono, Danny and Steve claimed the sofa, leaving Jerry to sit by himself in the recliner.   

“I feel like a fifth wheel over here,” Jerry complained, though his smirk belied the statement.

“Sorry Jer-bear,” said Kono.  She unapologetically snuggled in closer against her husband.

Steve chuckled and lifted his arm, then let it fall across Danny’s shoulders.  Danny sighed in resignation, but wiggled to make himself comfortable at Steve’s side.

Conversation was kept at a minimum while they ate and watched the movie.  Jerry took sporadic notes about the characters’ wardrobes and vocalized his thoughts about ways the younger children could craft accessories for the heroes, but other than that, they were all happy to relax in peace.

Once he was done eating, Danny turned his face to press his cheek against Steve’s chest.  Without thinking, Steve began to trail his fingers up and down Danny’s neck, shoulder and arm.

“Um, boss?”  Kono pointed to Danny.

Steve looked down at his partner.  He had fallen sound asleep.

Kono raised her eyebrows, but it wasn’t in a teasing manner, as it might be under normal circumstances.  Sadness and compassion shone in her eyes, and Steve remembered that although Danny hadn’t confided the full details of his recent trials to them, the rest of Five-0 remained vigilant for ways they might help their friend.

At the moment, their best course was to keep quiet so as not to disturb him.  Steve put a finger to his lips, and they took the hint.

Danny slept throughout the rest of the movie, and while Steve stayed awake, he didn’t see much of it either.  He should have concentrated on the film in order to get a better understanding of the dynamic between the characters they were playing, but he couldn’t seem to focus his senses on anything but his partner.

It was entirely unfair; the man’s energy and boisterous personality made it impossible to ignore him when he was awake.  How was it feasible for him to be equally captivating while asleep?  The scent and feel of his freshly-showered skin, the soft snores, and the warm weight of his body tucked beside Steve’s - how could anyone, even a highly trained ex-Navy SEAL, be expected to keep his thoughts in line with such distractions?

In truth, this was an old battle of Steve’s conflicted heart.  For seven long years, he’d swept aside the notion that his deep affection for his friend was anything more than a bond of brotherhood.  His failed relationships with women, and a couple of clumsy attempts with men in his younger days, had made him too gun-shy to risk altering the paradigm that was the most stable part of his life.

On the other hand, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if Danny felt secure enough to cuddle with him, then Steve shouldn’t question his good fortune.

When the movie ended, Adam, Kono and Jerry rose to their feet as quietly as they could.  The three of them tidied up by throwing away the pizza boxes, turning off the television and ‘killing’ the lights.  They prepared to depart the McGarrett residence.

Kono leaned over Steve.  “Do you want to wake him so that he can go home?  Adam and I can drop him off if he’s too tired to drive.”

Steve glanced down at his exhausted partner.  Danny hadn’t planned to stay over, but Steve didn’t mind.  His sleep patterns had improved somewhat, aided by some new medication, but not so much that he shouldn’t take advantage of any opportunity to get some uninterrupted rest when he could.

Steve shook his head.  “No, he can stay here.  But before you go, could you grab a blanket for him?”

She did as he asked, and though he had intended to maneuver himself out of the way to let Danny lie down, she spread the quilt over the both of them.

“Have a good night, boss,” she mouthed.  She turned off the last lamp and followed her husband and Jerry out the door.  That left Steve and Danny lounging in total darkness, nestled together under a single blanket.  

The SEAL resisted the urge to squirm.  He’d slept in plenty of awkward positions and places before, mostly during his military career, but this was a different beast altogether.

It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable like this – quite the opposite.  He didn’t care to sleep sitting up, but there was something about having Danny beside him that felt good – _right_ , even – but the implications that came with that were anything but simple, and not as platonic as Steve liked to pretend.

Danny burrowed even further beneath his arm, as though he might try to crawl into his very skin.  The stress lines on his face had softened, making him appear younger and less burdened than Steve ever remembered seeing in waking light.  

He sighed in his sleep, and Steve could swear he’d heard his name in that heavy breath.  

Really now, it wasn’t that much of a burden for him to stay there on the couch, with Danny in his arms.  He needed to stop overthinking things.  They were both mature adults, and Danny would have (loudly) expressed any displeasure he might have had with Steve’s need for tactile closeness.

Appeased by that knowledge, and by the rhythmic inhalation and exhalation beside him, Steve stretched his legs out on the coffee table, tipped his head back to rest against the back of the sofa, and closed his eyes, a goofy grin making its way to his lips.

* * *

_He was falling, or it felt that way.  Steve was familiar with the sensations: the sting and pressure of the frigid air on his skin as his body sliced through the atmosphere; his hair, short as it was, whipping backwards like it was being torn from his skull, and the helpless heaviness as the laws of gravity exerted its control over him._

_He scrambled for purchase, clawing for something to grab onto, but there was nothing but emptiness.  Limbs waving, panic overrode all thought or reason, and he braced for the inevitable fatal crash._

_It never came.  His descent ceased in the space of a breath, but there was no relief from the sense of vertigo that overwhelmed him, even as his feet hit the earth._

_Initially, there was nothing but darkness, but as he panted to catch his breath, the space around him began to illuminate with possibilities.  He saw no discernible signs, good or bad, to pinpoint whether he should remain where he was or if he should take one of the roads unfolding before him._

_Standing still made him feel lost and grief-stricken.  He needed to move, to escape the despair that had begun to slink over him like a rolling fog.  Steve weighed his options, feeling a pull of splintered emotions from every conceivable direction.  He chose the trail that seemed to ignite a cold fire within him and started down that road._

_He hadn’t gone far when he noticed someone else approaching from another direction.  He stopped; his heart pounded like the beat of a war drum - so hard, he thought it might leap from his chest.  He searched his clothes, a peculiar, heavy blue uniform, and the nondescript area around him for a weapon to defend himself, but he found none.  What he DID find was a large, round shield lying at his feet, and he promptly picked it up.  He raised it against his adversary._

_The figure came into view.  It was a man, short but with a sturdy build beneath a black combat outfit.  He glared at Steve with icy blue eyes for a moment, and then turned and walked away._

_‘Danny,’ Steve thought.  He sprinted after him and took him by the wrist.  Steve kept the shield raised between them, lest the man lashed out to hurt him.  He dragged Danny onto the path he’d taken._

_Danny fought him at first, but gave up when it became clear that Steve was not going to let him run off.  Soon, it was no longer necessary to cling to him or keep the shield held quite so high._

_They traveled together for a long time.  Sometimes, one of them veered away, ran ahead, or walked backwards.  Sometimes one of them faltered or tripped, and was carried by the other.  But no matter what happened or where they wandered, they found their way back to each other’s side._

_And with every step they took, Steve lowered the shield between them more and more._

_All of a sudden, Danny stopped.  Steve was a few paces ahead before he noticed.  He whirled around._

_Danny was watching him with an unidentifiable expression on his face.  It was the same look he’d given Steve some time ago, and a few times since._

_The SEAL dropped his shield._

_They approached one another, and joined hands.  Steve negotiated their bodies into a dance position, his hands caressing his partner’s lower back while Danny’s arms looped around his neck.  They swayed to an imaginary song, one filled with love and serenity, and they drifted closer and closer, never breaking eye contact.  Steve leaned in._

_There was nothing elaborate or desperate about the kiss.  It was merely a simple meeting of lips, an intimate gesture that was as much about kindness and empathy as it was about adoration and passion.  Even so, Steve felt every nerve ending in his body begin to tingle, like they were waking from the numbness that came from stagnation.  He yearned for more; he longed to drink from the entire well that was Danny Williams rather than settle for a mere sip, but the lackluster response made him pull back._

_Danny wasn’t looking at him, not properly.  A startling change had come over him, manifesting as symptoms Steve should have recognized, but couldn’t place in light of his own doubts.  Those beautiful eyes, where before there had been a mosaic of love and tenderness, were clouded over.  Beads of sweat bubbled to the surface of his skin and trickled down the sides of his face.  And that enticing mouth - ever in motion – was stuck in the middle of a horrified, soundless scream._

_“Dan-”_

_A powerful blow to his abdomen robbed him of voice and breath.  Steve doubled over and gasped, eyes wide with shock.  “Danny, what…?”_

_Another strike, this one to his jaw, sent him reeling several steps backwards._

_Danny advanced.  He looked utterly deranged; his features twisted with fear and fury, and Steve knew he would not stop or listen to reason._

_The shield – where was it?  Steve didn’t want to hit him if he could help it, but he needed to protect himself.  He knelt on the ground, his head whipping back and forth, and hands scrambling as he desperately searched for it._

_His fingers came into contact with cool metal, but before he could pick it up, a black boot slammed down upon the center of the shield and a hand grabbed the front of this uniform.  He lifted his head and winced at the hateful glare he was given._

_“Danno – I’m sorry…”_

_Danny’s other arm lifted and pulled back, preparing to deal a devastating strike…_

Steve jolted awake at the impact and sat up.  The side of his face stung, and his stomach hurt when he moved.  He caught movement out of the corner of his eyes, and then he was struck in the side.  He clambered to get away, but got caught in the blanket.  He and his attacker rolled off the couch and onto the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs and muffled grunts.  

Somehow, Steve managed to worm his way out of the pile.  He jumped to his feet and retreated to flick on the lights and assess the situation.

Danny was writhing around, arms and legs thrashing as if attempting to fight off some unseen enemy, and he was yelling about blood and death.  

His eyes were clenched shut.

Steve realized instantly what was happening.  He dove back in and seized his friend’s wrists so that he wouldn’t hurt himself.  “Danny, Danny!  Wake up!  It’s okay!  You’re okay!”

Danny woke immediately to his touch and his voice.  He stared up at Steve in horror.  “What – what happened?”

“You were having a nightmare.”  Steve loosened his tight grip on Danny’s wrists and waited for him to calm down.  Once he seemed fully alert, Steve helped him up and guided him back to the couch.  

Danny bent forward, head between his knees, and interlaced his fingers behind his head.  His body shuddered with heaving breaths, and his damp clothes clung to his body.

Steve settled beside him.  After some hesitation, he laid a steady palm on Danny’s back and rubbed up and down his spine in an effort to soothe him.

It seemed to work.  Slowly, the tremors coursing through him ceased, and he no longer sounded like he was going to hyperventilate.  

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispered.

“Don’t be,” said Steve.  After a beat, he asked, “Are you okay?  What do you need?”

Danny didn’t answer for a bit.  He remained still for another minute or so.  Then he sat up slowly.  “I need…”

“What?” Steve prompted.

Danny studied his face, but for what, Steve didn’t know.

Danny’s gaze traveled down and stopped at Steve’s midsection.  He gulped, looking rather pale and nauseous, and angled his body towards Steve.  He reached out with shaking hands to lift up Steve’s shirt.

Steve fought the instinct to recoil.  His own dream was still vivid and fresh, and there was a painful throb in his gut.  He flinched when Danny’s fingers prodded the scar from the liver transplant and then shivered when those fingers began to trace indistinguishable patterns on his skin.  He pressed his palm flat against Steve's stomach.

Danny clamped his eyes shut and let out a choked sob.  “I saw – I thought you were…”

“Hey.”  Steve placed one of his hands over Danny’s and cupped his cheek with the other.  “It’s okay.  I’m okay.”

“Your face is red,” Danny mumbled.  “Did I-”

“It was an accident,” Steve said firmly.  He shoved down the mental image of the manic Dream Danny.  “You didn’t know what you were doing.  Come ‘ere.”  

They hugged briefly, but Danny didn't let it linger.  “Ah…”  He wiped his eyes.  “D-do you have a notebook and a pen I could borrow?  Whenever I have a nightmare, I’m supposed to write it down – put it in perspective or whatever.”

“Yeah.  Sure, buddy.”  Steve ducked into the kitchen to grab the items he’d asked for, along with a glass of water.  “Here you go.”  

“Thanks.”  Danny drained the glass in one go and then got to work jotting down the details of his nightmare.  After an awkward silence, he said, “You might want to put some ice on that cheek.”

It wasn’t actually sore enough to need ice, but Steve could tell Danny wanted to be alone for a bit.  It was just as well; Steve could use some space too.

He left Danny to his journaling and went to get some water for himself.  

Steve drank two full glasses, and then leaned against the counter, his shoulders hunched and chin bent to his chest.

 _‘It was a dream,’_ he thought.   _'Just a dream.  No reason to analyse it.’_

But it wasn’t; that was the problem.  It was a revelation of the desires and fears he’d worked so hard to extinguish, or – at the bare minimum – keep in check in the name of self-preservation.

Steve was good at compartmentalizing his emotions when it suited him, but no compartment was without limits, nor - he thought - was there one big enough to contain everything Danny meant to him.  Throughout their partnership, he’d tried to fill it with all the poignant moments, lingering looks, flirtatious ribbing and inappropriate fantasies, but he could only do so as long as the walls remained intact.  And since he was single again (he and Lynn had amicably called it quits), that compartment had begun to burst at the seams, its contents bleeding out for all - for _Danny_ \- to see.

At times, Steve wondered if he truly was alone in this undefined state of agony, whether the long hugs and stolen glances might mean as much to Danny as they did to Steve.  The knowledge that they were both unattached at the same time (for once), and Danny’s willingness to spend most of his extra time in Steve’s company, had fractured the foundation of the ‘Danny Box’.  But, as Steve’s subconscious so kindly reminded him, Danny’s words and actions might not signify anything more, and any attempt by Steve to take it further could be met with hostility.

Steve checked his watch.  Eleven fifty-two; they’d only been out for about two and half hours.  After the dream he’d had, he didn’t think he’d be getting back to sleep any time soon.  He doubted Danny would either.

He took a deep inhale, held it in, and slowly let it out.  He filled his cup one more time and went back into the living room.

Danny had finished writing and was sitting upright, spine rigid and muscles tense.  He appeared to be doing some breathing exercises, but the tightness around his mouth and closed eyes told Steve that it wasn’t really helping.

“Hey,” said Steve.  “You okay?  You wanna talk about it?”

Danny opened his eyes and glared at the floor.  “No, not right now.  I’d rather - I don’t know.  I need something to take my mind off it.”

“Do you want to watch TV for a while?  Or a movie?”

“No, not really.”

“Hmm.”  Steve looked around the room, searching the space and his mind for ideas.  His eyes fell on a booklet sitting on top of the DVD player.

“How about we work on our lines?  We haven’t read through the latest section Ty sent us.”

Danny contemplated his options.  “Sure.  Let’s do that.”

“Okay.”  Steve got up and grabbed the script.  He plopped down beside him and paged through to the middle of the second act.  

He cleared his throat and held up the booklet so that they both could read from it.  “Bucky, please stay.”

Danny squinted a little.  “I’m not who I used to be, Steve.  I’ve done so many horrible things.  I…”  He glanced at the bruise forming on Steve’s cheek.  “I hurt so many people.  I don’t deserve your friendship, or your forgiveness.”

“Yes, you do!  It wasn’t your fault, Dan - Bucky.  You must know that.  You had no choice.”

“Your friends don’t see it that way.  The _world_ won’t see it that way.”

“Then we’ll make them.”  Steve turned the page and tilted it so he could read a large block of dialogue.  “Listen Buck; I care about my friends, and I would do anything to protect each and every one of them.  But it’s not the same with you.  You and I - we were pulled from time and dropped into another world.  To everyone else, it might look like we’ve adjusted well, but the truth is,  some days, you are the only thing that keeps me going.  When the darkness comes, when nothing seems to make sense, I have only to feel you by my side to know that all will be well.”

The SEAL felt a blush creeping to the surface of his skin as he read the next part.   _“You_ are my shield, my anchor, my rock in this new life we lead.  Without you, I do not have the strength to be the hero, to be the man I want to be.”

Danny took the script.  “You always were the sentimental type.  But you’re right.  So much of my life has been lived in the shadows, where only pain and destruction reign.”  His voice quavered.  “But I have both light and hope with you, and whatever I must face, I would not do it without you.  Too long we have fought alone, but no more.  Never again shall I part from you.  If we are of one mind in this, then let us stand together.  Come what may, we will live and, if we must, die as one.”

A page break shifted the scene to an argument between Ms. Marvel and Wolverine, both of whom were being portrayed by nurses who worked at the hospital.  Danny flicked past a couple of pages, looking for their next part, but found none.  The kids hadn’t written it yet.

“Guess that’s it for now.  Again?” Danny asked.

“Uh, sure.”

They read through it a second time, then a third.

After the third, Danny discarded it onto the coffee table.  “Heh.  I feel like we’re supposed to hold hands or kiss or something after this part.”  

Steve let out a strangled laugh.  “Y-yeah.  The scene does have that kind of feel to it, doesn’t it?  Can you imagine?”

Danny went rigid, and his mouth curved into an embarrassed – almost horrified – grimace.  For a second, it looked like he wanted to scream.  “That would – I mean…”  He couldn’t seem to find the words he wanted.

It was cool outside and in the house, but suddenly the air between them was thick and muggy.  Neither of them were ready or willing to express whatever thoughts or feelings that were tumbling through them, and the prolonged hush did nothing to ease the tension.

Steve knew he shouldn’t presume to understand the reason for Danny’s current expression, but it matched the one he’d seen in his dream after they kissed (Steve ran his tongue over his lips at the memory) so perfectly, he couldn’t help it.  It hurt to recall how shock had morphed into an anger so bitter, that Dream Danny had struck him (Steve palpated his bruised cheek).  He tried to remind himself – again – that it had been a dream, that it meant nothing.  It was merely a coincidence that Danny’s unconscious thrashing had somehow coincided with the beating in Steve’s nightmare.

But no matter how logical the argument, Steve found no comfort, no absolution from crossing the unspoken boundary drawn between them.

“It’s late.  I should probably go.”

Steve didn’t look at him as he nodded.  “Right.”

Danny tore out the pages with his recollections of the nightmare and gradually forced himself to stand on his shaking legs.

Wanting to help, but deeming it unwise to touch him, Steve retrieved Danny’s gym bag for him and met him at the front door.  “You sure you’ll be alright?” he asked.

“Yeah.”  Danny took the bag and slung it over his shoulder.  He took a closer look at Steve.  “Will you?  You don’t look so good, babe.”

“Just tired,” Steve lied.  He needed Danny to leave.  He couldn’t deal with his well-meaning worry, couldn’t reconcile those caring, concerned eyes with the harsh, hostile ones he’d seen in his sleep.

“Okay.  I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the hospital then.  Want me to pick you up?”

“No.  I’ll meet you there.”

Danny looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it.  “Okay.  ‘Night, babe.”

“Goodnight, Danno.”

Steve stood on the threshold and watched Danny get into the Camaro.  He adjusted the seat, started the vehicle, and waved at Steve one more time.  Then he put the car in reverse, waited for a late-night dog walker to wrangle his puppy out of the way, and drove away.

Once he was out of sight, Steve went back inside.  

Well, there was nothing for it.  He’d have to revert to some old tried-and-true tactics in order to put some distance between himself and his partner.  It was never easy, and his personal promise to be there for Danny during this difficult time would complicate matters, but it was necessary.  He couldn’t let Danny find out how he truly felt, that whenever he said “I love you”, he meant it in the _‘let’s get married and grow old together’_ way.  

Their friendship was too important to him, and he didn’t think he could handle a loss due to inevitable rejection.

Steve stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed.

For a long time, he stared at the ceiling, mapping out a strategy to ensure that he could help his partner _and_ reconstruct the barriers needed to protect them both.  Mollified by his chosen course, he rolled over and closed his eyes.  

And when sleep claimed him again, he dreamed of himself and Danny, walking down the same old road, the shield raised between them.   

* * *

Steve stalked up and down the length of the hall, sometimes pausing before one of the interrogation rooms.  He didn’t have a case right now, so they were empty of suspects.

It had been an uneventful day.  Idleness made Steve twitchy at the best of times, but toss in an ever-evolving personal dilemma (spelled D-A-N-N-Y), and his frustration increased ten-fold.  Reflecting on ever-deepening desires and his panic that Danny would learn of them was a drain on his (physical and emotional) energy levels and shortened the fuse on his temper.

On paper or, as the case was, in Steve’s head, his approach to the issue should have been foolproof.   He and Danny were most often together at work, and creating space on the job was a simple fix.  All it took was a little rearranging and firm delegation to get a game of musical partners going.  That wasn’t anything new, and the other members of Five-0 took it in stride.  And if Danny was a little perplexed at being paired with Kono for the tenth time in as many days, Steve could explain it away by telling Danny that she was worried about him (which was the truth).

This had worked in the past, but there were a lot more complicated factors in play now.  First, there was Danny’s ongoing struggle with PTSD, and his coping strategies where Steve was concerned negated the reprieves they had from one another during investigations.  

There were the usual, thundering (and very public) rants –

_“Five seconds, Steven!  That’s how long it would have taken for me to get here!  If you had just waited those five tiny seconds, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt!”_

_Steve sat down in the back of the ambulance and let the newest addition to Honolulu’s E.M.T. services (Steve was fairly well acquainted with almost every technician on the island, but he didn’t recognize this guy) examine the minor head wound.  “It’s just a little bump, Danno.  I’ll get it checked at the hospital later if you want, but I promise you, it’s nothing.”_

_“Oh, a LITTLE bump, huh?  Maybe I should whack you upside the head with this rifle – turn it into a BIG bump.  Maybe then you’ll finally get it through that thick skull of yours that you are not invincible!”_

– spontaneous and more frequent hugs –

_Steve was bent over the smart table, reading through the financials of his suspect in a double homicide, when Danny appeared at his side._

_“Hey Steve.  Kono and I are heading out to follow up with a witness to the latest Kahala robbery.”  He lifted his arm and propped his elbow up on Steve’s shoulder.  “Need anything while we’re out?”_

_Steve willed himself not to move or look at him.  “If you don’t mind bringing back a round of coffee for everyone, that’d be great.  Thanks.”_

_“You bet.”  Danny moved his limb to Steve’s other shoulder and squeezed him in a side hug.  Then he left without comment, and Steve exhaled the breath he’d been holding._

– or the cryptic way that Danny looked at him when he thought Steve wouldn’t notice.

_Steve knew when someone was watching him.  It was a sixth sense that most people possessed to some degree, but his military training had refined it into a razor-sharp tool.  That didn’t mean he could always identify who it was, but he knew – by the way Danny whipped his head down whenever Steve glanced at him – that in this instance, his partner was to blame._

_It took some clever, subtle observations over time, but piecing together the clues, he discovered that Danny kept looking at him in a way he still couldn’t figure out.  It wasn’t sorrow or anger, but it wasn’t a happy expression either._

_And, though he didn’t mention it to anyone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Danny wasn’t the only one watching him._

Then there was the children’s project.

They practiced, together and with the other cast members, as often as their caseload allowed.  One would think that a play about superheroes wouldn’t have so many double-entendres in the dialogue, but every scene he had with Danny seemed to have an undertone of devotion that implied more than camaraderie between Captain America and Bucky Barnes.  He and Danny had to memorize and regurgitate speeches to one another that were borderline romantic, and it was driving him insane.  

No matter how hard he tried to keep it light and fun, Captain America’s sentiments hit too close to the mark of how he truly felt about his partner.  Danny’s quip about ending a scene with a kiss had been a cruel joke, because now it was all Steve could think about.

The rehearsals were bad enough, but then it came time to help the kids make the sets and props.  Members of the Allegra Noelani Foundation organized craft days, and Five-0 could often be found mingling among the children while they painted, sculpted or decorated their designs.  The last straw for Steve came on one such day.

_It had required some intense negotiations with hospital staff to pull it off, but somehow, the large cafeteria had been transformed into an art classroom.  Children of all ages, current and former residents of the hospital, had been divided into groups and given projects to work on.  Volunteers filtered in and out of the room, or wandered between tables, offering snacks or assistance where needed._

_A local artist, with whom the foundation had worked with in the past, had provided them with nine white, king-sized bedsheets.  These were to be the backdrops for the production; once finished, they would be mounted on collapsible walls that could be set up in whatever room or space they chose to have the event.  The artist had drawn landscapes across the sheets in sets of three that would hang side-by-side: a city skyline, a jungle forest, and a science laboratory.  On the back of each sheet, at the top, was a long, Velcro strip.  When it came time for the performance, helpers could just tear off one set and attach the next within seconds._

_It was the kids’ job to paint the backdrops.  The kitchen faculty had pushed some tables together, laid cheap drop cloths down over them, and then spread out the backdrops.  Children and volunteers sat on either side, chatting and painting away however they wished.  They were not given any instructions regarding color schemes, so the end result would no doubt be the most vibrant, fantastical backgrounds one could hope to see._

_Chin, Sara and Abby, Lou and his family, and Danny, Grace and Charlie were among those working on the backdrops with the kids.  Steve was greatly amused by the snippets of conversation he’d overheard, and the glimpses he’d caught of their work as he walked past._

_His favorite so far had been listening to Danny mediate between a four year old boy and seven year old girl; the boy was adamant that the skyscraper they were working on should be pink (because, why shouldn’t the Avengers fight in front of a pink building?), but the girl wanted it to be the conventional black and grey.  Danny got them to compromise by having the girl trace the outline in the darker colors, and the boy filled in the windows and doors with shades of pink and orange._

_That exchange, along with the many others Steve had witnessed that morning, made his heart pleasantly contract and expand in a way that was almost indescribable.  Danny’s Jersey bluster and abrasiveness, a shield in its own right, sometimes overshadowed what a wonderful father he was – a father that would move heaven and earth to be with and care for his children.  He wasn’t without faults in the parenting department, but if ever there was a universal truth in this world, it was that Danny’s love for Grace and Charlie was wider and deeper than any ocean.  It was only natural that such love would spill out to include any other kids he came into contact with, and they in turn latched onto him._

_If Steve hadn’t already been hopelessly in love with him before now, watching Danny’s interactions with the children would have certainly pushed him over the edge._

_Steve ducked to hide his infatuated, goofy grin, and forced himself to focus on his own little team of artists._

_“That looks really nice, Haliaka,” he told the six year old girl next to him._

_Haliaka, who was recovering from a kidney transplant, was helping her older twin brothers paint a round, wooden shield.  The boys’ high school shop teacher had helped them make it, and they had given it to their sister to decorate with Captain America’s signature motif._

_The little girl eased herself up and craned her neck to look around the room._

_“Whatcha need, sis?” one of the boys asked._

_“Glitter,” she answered, “for the star.”_

_“I got it,” said the other brother._

_Ten minutes later found not only the shield and half their table covered in the sparkly stuff, but Steve as well.  He had no idea how she managed to get it all over him – on his clothes, his hands and even his face – but there was no way he’d be able to get it all off.  That crap got everywhere, but when Haliaka proudly showed him the finished product, he smiled and told her that he’d have to donate it to an art museum after the play – it was that beautiful._

_“That’s a nice look you’ve got going on, McGarrett,” said an amused voice._

_Steve glanced up over his shoulder at Danny, and pointed at the swirls of neon paint on his cheeks.  “You’re one to talk.”_

_Danny shrugged, completely unashamed. “Leo got bored with painting the city.  But never mind that.  Jerry just called.  He and Max are in the waiting room.  They’ve got our costumes and want us to try them on quick.”_

_“Sure.”  Steve nudged Haliaka.  “I’ll be right back, okay?”_

_With her consent, Steve and Danny stepped out to look for their colleagues, stopping at a restroom along the way to wash their hands._

_Jerry waved when he saw them.  “Hey, guys.”_

_“Commander McGarrett, Detective Williams – you seem to be having an enjoyable afternoon,” said Max, holding back a snicker._

_“Yeah, yeah.  Those the costumes?”  Steve nodded at the garments bags in their arms._

_“Indeed.  Through the combined efforts of Jerry and me, we were able to procure the requested ensembles.  Mind you, they are not top-shelf quality, but they should suffice for this production.”  Max handed one of the bags to Steve.  “We ordered them in a larger size than we thought you might need.  If you’ll try them on, we can make a determination as to whether or not alterations will be required.”_

_“Got it.”_

_Jerry gave another garment bag to Danny.  “Try not to get too much paint or glitter on these.”_

_“We’ll do our best,” Danny said.  They split up to find a bathroom or some other empty room to change._

_Steve emerged first, despite having to use moistened paper towels to try and get more of the glitter off of his clothes and skin.  The blue uniform was a tad baggy, but the length for his arms and legs were just about right._

_“We’ll have to have it taken in,” Max decided.  “Hold still a moment, Commander.”  Jerry handed him a small box of pins, and the medical examiner encroached into his space to mark the areas.   “Arms up, please.”_

_Steve obeyed with a sigh and locked his fingers behind his head so that Max could add pins to the waist and chest._

_“Well, what do you think?”_

_He, Max and Jerry turned around.  Danny strolled towards them, oblivious to the string of second glances directed his way from the hospital staff loitering in the area.  He raised his arms and did a little twirl.  “It fits pretty well.”_

_‘Pretty well’ was the understatement of the year.  If Jerry hadn’t told them that the suits were going to be ordered online, Steve would have assumed that the Winter Soldier costume had been tailor-made to fit Danny’s physique.  The faux black leather top (with one silver sleeve) was form-fitting and showed off his powerful arms and chest, and the black combat pants were the perfect size and shape to exhibit Danny’s drool-worthy behind._

_“Not bad, brah,” said Jerry.  “Hey, is anyone else from the cast here today that could try on their costumes?”_

_Danny nodded and pointed down the hall.  “Yeah.  Head that way and take a left at the end.  The cafeteria’s the third door on the right.  You should find them wandering around there.”_

_“Thanks.”  Jerry gathered up three more garment bags and walked off, following Danny’s directions._

_Danny strolled closer to Steve.  “So?  What do you think?”_

_“You look - um…”_

_The ‘Winter Soldier’ smirked.  “So good that you’re speechless?” he teased.  He gave Steve a very deliberate once over and lowered his voice.  “Yours looks a little too loose, babe.  You should take it off.”_

_Steve’s mouth fell open, and he swore his heart stopped._

_Max’s cell phone began to vibrate.  “Ah! Excuse me a moment, gentlemen.”  He retreated to a corner of the room to answer._

_Steve dropped his arms.  “Um, Danno?”_

_Danny’s leer faded.  He ran his fingers through his hair.  “Listen Steve.  There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about…”_

_A male nurse in green scrubs sprinted past them with a cart.  He must have slipped or something, because the cart veered towards them and smashed into Danny’s bad leg.  His knees buckled, and he stumbled into Steve.  “Ow!  Hey, watch where you’re going, you putz!  Can’t you see I’m standing here?”_

_“Sorry brah!” the nurse shouted without stopping._

_“Asshole,” Danny muttered.  He regained his balance and hobbled over to a chair.  He sat down and rubbed the abused joint._

_“Do you need some ice?  I can go ask someone at the front desk for a pack,” Steve offered._

_“Yeah.  Thanks, babe.  I’d appreciate that.”_

_Steve hightailed it out of there, but he did not go straight to the reception area.  He needed a minute to compose himself, so he returned to the bathroom where he’d changed and splashed cold water on his face._

_God, seeing Danny in that outfit (and then getting a handful of him when he tumbled against him) had ignited a civil war between his head and his body.  On the one hand, the skin-tight suit had sent his heart into overdrive, pumping red-hot blood through him, and a disconcerting amount had headed south of the border.  He was immensely glad that his uniform had some wiggle room._

_On the other hand, Danny’s collision with the nurse, the rapid switch from pleasure to antagonism (though the latter hadn’t been directed at Steve) recalled the nightmare he’d had about the consequences of giving in to his longings.  It was a startling reminder that he was supposed to create space between them, not fall deeper in love with him.  He would have to find a way to limit their interactions further.  His sanity, and their partnership, depended on it._

Steve stopped the useless pacing and hurried back to his office.  The workday was over; if he was fast, he might make it out of there before Danny saw him.

He shut down his laptop, locked up any confidential files, and turned off the lights.

“Hey, there you are!  We’re going to be late for rehearsal.  You ready to go?”

Dammit, he’d forgotten about that!  He couldn’t take another night of close contact and innuendos.

Thinking quickly, Steve put on his best apologetic mien.  “Shit, was that tonight?  I’m sorry Danny, but I can’t go.  I made other plans, and I can’t cancel.”

“What other plans?”

“Uh…”  Fuck!  He should have thought to come up with an actual story to back up his excuse instead of brooding in the dark like a certain caped crusader from a rival fanbase.  “Well, I - I have a date.”  

“A date?” Danny echoed, eyes widening.  He chewed on his bottom lip and tilted his head to stare at a spot on the wall rather than directly at Steve.  “Ah – with whom, may I ask?”  

Steve had never been any good at digging himself out of holes.  “Um, it's…”  His mind traded the metaphorical shovel for a backhoe, and his mouth threw out the first name that burst into his head.  “It’s with Catherine.”


	5. M.I.A.

“Danny, you can’t go on like this”

Steve stumbled to a halt before rounding the corner into the bullpen.  He was just getting back from a meeting with Governor Mahoe.  He was hungry, exhausted, and he stank with sweat and blood.  He only meant to stop by to drop off the reports she’d given him before heading home, but Kono’s insistent words gave him pause.

“You think I don’t know that?  I was going to tell him after Monday’s rehearsal, but then…” Danny’s voice softened, and Steve had to strain a little to hear it.  “The date, and then the argument; he’s been avoiding me all week.”

Steve turned and pressed his back against the wall as he moaned inwardly.

In hindsight, telling Danny that he was going on a date with Catherine was one of the worst things he could have said.  He could have thrown out any random name as part of the ruse to get out of practice, but had he?  Oh no – he HAD to pick the one woman, other than Rachel, that set Danny off.  The explosion that followed was inevitable.

Incredulity had become rage, and misunderstandings fueled the argument until it devolved into bitter jabs, poisoned with unexpressed suffering.  The fight finally ended with Steve stomping out of the building, his ego bruised by Danny’s commentary on his masochistic choices.  

They’d had no contact with one another the rest of that night, and – fortunately for Steve – a big case came in the next day.  It involved the mysterious disappearance of a criminal defense attorney, a man with a string of mistresses and no shortage of enemies.  It was a high profile investigation with a ticking clock – the perfect distraction for a slightly disturbed man with a chaotic love life (or lack thereof).  He had been too busy to eat, let alone think about a despondent Danny.  

Outside of a few terse check-ins, they hadn’t seen or spoken with one another much the last few days.  Danny and Kono had been chipping away at a serial robbery case, which left Chin, Abby and Lou to trail after Steve in full Super SEAL mode.

“That’s not fair, Danny.  He was running all over the island trying to find that attorney, and you know the governor was on his ass about it.  And you and I were busy setting up the sting to catch our robbers.  Neither of you had time to talk it out.”  There was a short pause.  “And this isn’t something you should do over a text or phone call.”

Danny released a loud sigh.  Steve pictured him rubbing his face or messing with his hair in frustration.  “Yeah, you’re right.  I – we need to settle this once and for all.”

Steve held his breath.

His sharp ears heard a creak, the rustling of fabric, and one or two steps.  “Hey, I know you’re scared, but you have absolutely no reason to be.  It’s going to be fine.  Better than fine, actually.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.  Look, Chin called me and said they wrapped up their case, which means Steve should be back any minute now.”

“Did they find their guy?”

Kono laughed.  “Yeah.  He was being treated at one of the smaller clinics.  He was admitted as a John Doe, with a head wound that left him unconscious.  Turns out, the attorney got drunk and forgot where he parked his car.  Chin said he had wandered off, fell into a ditch and hit his head on a rock.  Some kids stole his wallet, which is why they didn’t know who he was when he was brought in.  He woke up this morning and told them the whole story.  Surveillance videos confirmed it.”

Danny snorted.  “That’s rather – anticlimactic.”

“Right?  Anyway, when Steve gets back, you should corner him and try to straighten this whole mess out.”

“And what makes you think he’ll give me the time of day?  He’ll probably just lock himself in his office.”

“Brah, those windows aren’t bullet-proof and we have – like – ten cases of guns.  You can’t use _‘he locked himself in his office’_ as an excuse.”

“Oh my god, Kono.”

Steve almost shouted the same thing.

“And besides, when have you ever backed down from a fight, or let Steve get away with being an idiot?”

“So you admit _he’s_ the idiot.”

“You both are.  And the sooner you put yourselves out of your self-induced misery, the sooner we can all get on with our lives.”   

Steve rubbed the back of his neck.  He hated to admit it, but Kono had a point.  All this secrecy was killing him, and apparently Danny wasn’t faring much better.  Perhaps it would be best to put it all out there.   At least that way, the two of them could come to some sort of understanding.  

Their current approach to the strain between them wasn’t working; it was merely a Band-Aid on a gaping wound.  If they were going to continue working together with any sort of civility, they needed to peel back the scar tissue, clean out the infection growing beneath the surface and bind it properly.

His mind made up, Steve pushed up off the wall and marched through the open door into Danny’s office.

Kono and Danny looked almost as tired as he felt.  They’d been up all night patrolling the Kahala area for a group of organized robbers who’d been terrorizing the neighborhood as part of their sting.  Lou had said that their suspects were being processed by HPD, and – by the disheveled state of their clothes – it was about time for them to head home to get some rest.

At his intrusion, they stood up at attention.

“Hey boss.  We got our guys,” said Kono.

“I heard.  You both did great work.”

“Thanks.”

Steve and Danny watched one another warily, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Kono rolled her neck and yawned.  “Well, I should go.  I’ll see you guys on Monday?”

“Unless we get a case, then yes,” said Steve.

“Get some rest, honey,” Danny called after her.  He waved, and Steve noticed that he had bandages wrapped around his hands.

“You too.”  She closed the door behind her.

Steve pointed to the bandages.  “What happened there?”

Danny sat back down and clenched his fingers.  “One of our suspects tried to take a three year old toddler hostage when we cornered him.  The kid’s fine, but – ah – the guy may have gotten a little banged up when I booked him.  He’s kind of a klutz.”

“So – what?  He just tripped and fell onto your fists?”

“Repeatedly.”  Danny shrugged and reclined in his chair.  “It was the strangest thing.”

Steve chuckled and took a seat.  “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“You mean besides my good looks and charming personality?”

Some of the humor faded from Steve’s mood.  “Danny, about that…”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Danny interrupted.  He leaned forward to rest his arms on the desk.  “For all the stuff I said the other day.  You’re right – it’s none of my business who you date or whatever.  I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, that’s all.”

“I lied.”

Danny blinked rapidly.  “Come again?”  

“About going on a date with Catherine,” he clarified.  “I lied.  I didn’t have a date with _anyone_ , let alone her.”

Steve watched with morbid fascination as the vein in Danny’s neck began to visibly pulse.  “And why the hell would you lie about something like that?”

The SEAL hung his head.  “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?”

“Both, in a way.”  Steve slouched in his chair to let his long legs stretch out.  “I’ve been having some problems of my own, and I didn’t want to trouble you with them.  I guess I thought if I avoided you, then you wouldn’t catch on.”  

“I figured as much.”  Danny pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Steve, that was a dumbass move on so many levels.  And I don’t want to go through this with you again.”

“Through what?” Steve asked, dreading the answer.

“Last year, things got really bad for a couple of months.  Catherine left you, I found out Charlie was my son - lots of crazy stuff went down and we…” His hands danced through the air, waving between them to punctuate his point.  “It’s like we weren’t ourselves.  There was nothing funny or friendly about how we treated each other.  And when we argued, it wasn’t petty bickering.  We were out for blood.”

“I remember,” Steve acknowledged.  It had been a rough year, and they more or less took their anger out on each other.  

“We’re never going to be perfect, but I don’t want to fall into those destructive patterns again.”

“I don’t want that either, Danno,” Steve agreed.  “So, what do we need to do to fix this?”

Danny studied him for a  long moment.  “I think we’ve both been keeping too many secrets for far too long.  And it’s time to come clean about all the things we’ve been holding back for whatever reason.”  He wrinkled his nose.  “But first, the rest of you needs to get clean.  Hate to tell you this, but you stink, babe.”

Steve was a little abashed at that, but Danny’s widening grin eased the sting of the remark.  “I can go take a shower downstairs in the locker room,” he offered.  “I’ve got a change of clothes in the truck.  It’ll only take me a couple of minutes.”

Danny covered his mouth to muffle a yawn.  “I know you’re quick, Navy boy, but as much as I’d like to continue this discussion, I might pass out on my desk waiting for you.”  He scratched at the stubble along on his chin.  “And I can’t imagine I look that great either.”

“Nonsense,” said Steve.  “You pull off the scruffy beat cop look really well.”

Danny snickered and said, “If that was supposed to be a compliment, you missed the mark by a mile.  And if it was a joke, it was a bad one.  Tell you what - why don’t you swing by my place tomorrow?  Rachel’s got the kids for the weekend, so I’ve got the house to myself.  You can come over in the morning.  We’ll hang out, talk, and I’ll cook us up a fine Italian dinner.  What do you say?”

“That sounds perfect, Danno.”

“Good.  It's a date then.”  Danny stood up and yawned again.  He collected his things, and Steve walked him out to the ops center, all the while trying to calm the nest of flying insects that had begun to crawl around his innards at the word “date.”

“You gonna be okay to drive home?”

Danny waved away the question.  “Sweet of you to be worried, but I’ll be fine.  As long as I don’t hit any traffic jams on the way, I should be just peachy.”

“Alright.  As long as you’re sure.”

“I am.”  Danny paused at the door, his fingers curled around the handle, and glanced back at Steve thoughtfully.  

“Danno?”

The detective gave a little shake of his head.  “It’s nothing.  I was just thinking that I must have finally lost my mind.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s just - it’s insane for me to think that I actually missed your crazy ass all week.”

The creepy crawlies in Steve’s gut started to dance.  “I missed you too, Danny.”  He raised his arms and moved in for a hug.

“Woah no!  You are not coming near me smelling like that.  Scrub up tonight, and you can hug me all you want tomorrow.”

“Okay, but you might regret giving me that kind of green light,” Steve warned.  

“We’ll see,” Danny drawled, an enigmatic leer on his face.  “Until tomorrow, Commander.”

* * *

Per Danny’s instruction, Steve went home to shower and relax after wrapping up a few things at the palace.  Aside from tending to his body’s neglected need for food and rest, he dedicated much of the evening replaying the morning’s short conversation in his mind, and the more he thought about it, the more irritated he became with himself for letting his doubts and a single nightmare cloud his perception of his friend, and create friction between them.

It had been foolish of him to think that Danny would want to end their partnership over Steve’s attraction to him.  People had been making jokes about them being a married couple for years, and though Danny had refuted those claims, it had never been done with malice or defensiveness, merely a summation of the facts.

And, thinking back on their interactions (minus the fights) with more of an objective eye had him questioning if he truly was as alone in his interest as he’d thought.  A couple of flirtatious texts from Danny throughout the evening reinforced the revelation, and gave him cause to be optimistic about his chances.

Perhaps Captain America didn’t need his shield after all.  The thought wasn’t nearly as terrifying as it once was.

Steve cooked a light dinner, watched another superhero movie (they were starting to grow on him), and prepared to go to bed early.  

While he was brushing his teeth, his phone began to ring with the generic tone assigned to distant acquaintances and unknown callers.  Steve spit out the paste and answered without checking the I.D.

“McGarrett.”

_“Hey Steve.  It’s Catherine.”_

He almost dropped his toothbrush in surprise.  “Uh - hey.  What’s up?”

_“Steve, I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but I have an urgent matter I need to discuss with you.  It’s about the Kalia Meier case.”_

“What about it?”

_“I’m flying into Honolulu early tomorrow morning; I’ll explain everything when I get there.  There’s a lot to go over, so you might want to clear your schedule for the day.”_

“I can’t do that, Cath.”

_“I know this is sudden, and it’s a lot to ask, but I wouldn’t unless it was of the utmost importance. Five-0 could be in danger.”_

That got his attention.  “Danger?” he echoed.  “From what?”

 _“From…”_  A background noise like a P.A. system distracted her for a second.   _"Steve, my flight’s boarding.  I’ll call you when I land, okay?”_

“A-alright.  Be safe.”

 _“I will,”_ she promised.  The call ended as abruptly as it began.

Steve stared at the screen in disbelief, trying to wrap his head around what just happened.  Then another text from Danny appeared.

_“Goodnight, babe.  Looking forward to tomorrow!”_

He was so screwed.  

* * *

This was not going to end well.  The timing of it all was so messed up.  Why couldn’t Catherine have contacted him earlier, when his relationship with Danny wasn’t already strained?  Why – if there was a potential that Five-0 was in jeopardy somehow – hadn’t she brought them in on the case at the very beginning?

And why hadn’t Steve anticipated that his little white lie about going on a date with her would come back to bite him in the ass?

These and other questions of a similar nature swirled around in his brain all night, but dwelling on them wouldn’t make this any less painless.  This HAD to be done.  The only thing he could do was get it over with and hope that the fallout wouldn’t be too severe.

He pressed the speed dial for Danny’s number.

The line picked up after two rings.  " _Hey, babe; just got back from the grocery store.  I hope you’re hungry, because I’ve got a huge, three-course dinner planned for tonight.”_

“Danny, ah - something came up.  I don’t think I’m going to make it over tonight.”  Steve heard a car door shut before Danny spoke again.

_“Really?  And why is that?”_

Steve took a bracing breath.  “Um, Catherine called me last night.  Now before you go off on me, the reason she called is because she has some information about the Meier case she needs to share with me, something that might put our team at risk.”

 _“You’re serious right now?  You’re really gonna pull this_ **_again_ ** _?_

“Danny, I swear to you this isn’t a joke or lie.”

 _“Yeah?”_  Danny didn’t sound homicidal yet, which could be a good sign.  “ _But we’ve got nothing to do with that case anymore; we haven’t touched it since she commandeered it.  How could it possibly put us in danger?”_

“I don’t know.  But she said it’s imperative that she speak with me as soon as possible.  I’m meeting her for coffee in about two hours.”

 _“I see.”_  Danny stopped to think, and then said, _“Steve, maybe I should be the one to meet her.”_

He hadn’t seen that coming.  “Why?”

 _“Why?  Oh, I don’t know.”_  Now the anger was building in his voice.  _“Maybe because get-togethers involving the two of you end up in one of two ways: either she fucks you emotionally–”_

“She does not!”

_“She most certainly does!  Look, I know I said I’d back off about this, but I need to say this again: you guys may have had a good thing before, but whatever you have now is most definitely in the realm of ‘unhealthy relationship’.  And trust me; I know a thing or two about unhealthy relationships.  But if by some miracle you come to an understanding about whatever it is you are, then there’s still an excellent chance that she’s here to drag you off on some classified bullshit mission that will inevitably wind up with you getting shot or tortured.”_

Steve’s head was beginning to throb.  He rubbed the spot on his forehead that felt most tender.  “Danny, I appreciate that you’re worried about me, I truly do, but it's just some files and coffee.”

_“Oh, really?  If that’s the case, then why cancel?  You could still come ‘round afterwards.”_

“I don’t know how long this is going to take.”  That much was true, but Steve also didn’t want to have to deal with Danny’s (well-intentioned) probing immediately afterwards.  

_“You honestly think that a meeting about a case is going to take all day?”_

“I don’t know, but I’d like to be prepared.  Can’t we just have lunch or something tomorrow?”

 _“No, we can’t.”_  Steve pictured Danny shaking his head.  “ _I’m spending the day at the children’s hospital.”_  Another door slammed, much louder than the other. _“You know what I think?”_

 _‘Here we go,’_ Steve thought, rolling his eyes.  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

_“I think you’re hoping to get more out of this little tryst.”_

Steve wanted to bang his head against a wall.  “It’s NOT a tryst.”

Danny continued as though he hadn’t heard him. _“I think you wanna be fuck buddies again.  Am I right?”_  Every word sounded bitter, and maybe even a little heartbroken.

“No, Daniel.  You could NOT be more wrong.  What, are you jealous or something? ”  Danny’s miserable tone had given him pause.

_“Jealous?  No, I’m not jealous.  I am reasonably concerned.  I am also justifiably furious that my best friend is blowing me off for a booty call after agreeing to dinner with me so we could talk.”_

“It’s for the case!”

_“Sure, of course it is.  It has nothing to do with avoiding me.”_

“I’m not avoiding you.”

 _“You are.  You admitted that yesterday, in case you forgot.”_  If they had been arguing in person, Steve was sure that Danny would be shaking a finger in his face about now.  

“That’s not just on me pal.  You haven’t exactly been very forthcoming either.”

 _“Okay, you got me there.  But Steve…”_ Danny paused, took a breath and lowered his voice.   _"This is important.”_

“So is this, apparently.  Plus, Catherine's only here for like two days.  You and I can talk anytime.”

 _“You sure about that?”_ Sarcasm crept into his voice. _“You never know; with our line of work, one of us could get shot or stabbed or something at any time.”_

“I’m starting to wish one of us would.”

_“Would what?”_

“Get shot or something – save me the torture of having to listen to you harp on me.”

_“I’m not harping on you!  I’m trying to understand why you don’t care enough to set aside a few hours to listen to me, but Miss Rollins can snap her fingers and you’ll chase after her like a dog in heat.”_

That crossed the line, and all regrets about having to cancel evaporated.  He’d had enough of his partner’s cruel accusations.  “Fuck you, Danny!  I listen to you all day, every day.  Maybe I need a break.  You ever think about that?”

Danny didn’t reply right away, and when he did, he sounded almost depressed.   _"I thought that – you know what?  Never mind.  Message received.  Go have your fling with Catherine.”_

“For fuck’s sake, it’s not a fling!”

_“And since you so desperately need more time away from me, I’m going to go ahead and take Monday off.  That will give you nearly three whole days without me.”_

“Danny, come on!”

 _“And don’t bother calling or coming by my place.  I’ll see you at work on Tuesday.”_  He hung up, and Steve lobbed the phone onto the passenger seat of his Silverado, seething.

* * *

By the time Steve actually arrived at the coffee shop, he’d had second, third and even fourth thoughts about this.  He was still furious at Danny for being an asshole, but wasn’t exactly eager to see Catherine either.  Had she not mentioned that there was a threat to Five-0, he would not have consented to meet.  

Steve found an open space on the street and parked his truck.  She was already there, sitting at an outdoor table and sipping from a squat mug.

She waved when she saw him.  “Hi, Steve!”

“Hey, Cath.”  He accepted her hug and took a seat.  “What’s this about?”

She didn’t answer at first.  She took a moment to survey him and sip at her coffee.  She seemed to be waiting for him to say more - perhaps ask how she was doing.  But he refused to offer an extended greeting, and she took the hint to get on with it.  

“I asked you here because I’ve been authorized to brief you about the status of the Kalia Meier case.  For your own safety, and that of your friends, you’ve been given clearance to access our suspect’s profile.”

“My safety?”

“We think there’s a chance that Bairaz may target you for information about this man.”  Catherine opened the first of three files to show him the photo and dossier of a young male in his twenties.  “Do you recognize him?”

Steve took the folder and skimmed the details that hadn’t been redacted.  “He looks familiar, but I can’t say I know him.”

“Understandable.  You encountered him once, years ago, and you probably didn’t have any direct contact with him.  His code name is Matrix.”  At Steve’s eye roll, she giggled and said, “I know – lame.  I’ve always wondered who comes up with these.  Anyway, he’s the guy Bairaz has been trying to get his hands on.  If you can remember it from Staff Sergeant Meier’s statement, he’s a prodigy, a genius computer programmer, and the N.S.A. recruited him to assist on a series of highly classified projects.”

“What kinds of projects?”

“Missile guidance systems, tracking programs, data security – that kind of stuff.  You may not know this, but a lot of the current technology used by our armed forces relies on the algorithms he designed.  If anyone wanted to gain a significant advantage over our military, counteract drone strikes, or even hack into government files, the best way to do so would be to go directly to the source.”

“Find the man behind the plan,” Steve concluded.  “What’s that got to do with me?”

“You really don’t recall?”  When Steve shook his head, she said, “ _Operation_ _Archimedes_.  That was the codename for the mission to extricate Matrix, and his family, from a village in the Bamyan Province.  It was a complete success; he was located without incident and transported to one of the barrack ships stationed in the Arabian Sea – the _Sanctuary_.”

“The ship where Staff Sergeant Meier worked.”

“Correct.  And Steve, you were on the SEAL team that got him out.”  Catherine picked up the second file and found the mission details for _Operation Archimedes_.  The name of the target had been removed, but the action plan contained everyone who had a hand in its execution, including the members of the extraction team.  Among the names listed was his own.

“Does that jog your memory?”

“Vaguely,” Steve mumbled.  “I don’t remember a ton of details.  As far as missions go, that one had been simple, went off without a hitch.”

“It’s easier to remember the ones that went south,” Catherine agreed.

Steve read the assignment overview.  “Yeah – it’s coming back to me.  I think I took point when we arrived at the village, and I stayed outside while the superior officers went in.  When we left, I was in the head vehicle.”

He returned the file.  “So you think that because of this, Bairaz may try to come after me?  I don’t know anything about this Matrix kid; I only saw him once for all of a minute.  What information could I possibly have that would be of use to Bairaz?”

“None.  But – you know people that do, myself being one of them.  You have a lot of connections, and people that are in your debt.  If you were so inclined, you’d be able to collect some very useful intel.”

“True, but why bother with _me_?  Or Staff Sergeant Meier, for that matter?  His connection to Matrix was even more tenuous than mine.  That file is full of the names of individuals who’d be far more advantageous.  Hell, you weren’t even there, and you know more than I do.  Why wouldn’t Bairaz target you?”  He didn’t mean to sound cruel, but it seemed pointless for the information broker to waste so much time on flimsy leads.

Catherine was not offended by the statement of fact.  “Matrix is one of our country’s most highly classified and highly protected secrets.  There are only a handful of people who have any kind of contact with him, and even less that know where to find him at any given moment.  And believe me, I’m not one of them.”

She tapped the file with her index finger.  “Bairaz couldn’t just start at the top of this list.  He had to start at the bottom and work his way up.  You should understand that.  As much as you would like to find your target in one try, it doesn’t always work that way.  

“Matrix is at the very heart of a long and complicated weave, and in order to get to him, Bairaz had to start pulling at the most distant threads.  We haven’t figured out who hired him for this job, or what information they may have fed him to start with, but we do know that he’s managed to work his way up to obtaining a copy of this file.”

Catherine tilted her body forward and lowered her voice.  “We don’t know for sure that he’ll come after you, but a strong possibility exists.  You may be a low link in the chain that leads to Matrix, but – I’m sorry to say – you’re also extremely vulnerable.  A lot of people in this file are either dead or well protected, and have few loved ones that can be used as leverage against them.  You’re essentially a civilian, not hard to find, and you’re surrounded by people you care deeply about.”

She smiled gently.  “You have a wonderful life, Steve, with lots of people who love you.  And I’m happy for you, I really am.  I’m not trying to belittle that at all.  But – love is a risk.  And when it comes to dealing with Bairaz, I mean that literally.”

Steve recalled the details of the Meier case.   “Because he doesn’t go after the person who has or can get the information he wants.  He targets family members or friends, using them as blackmail to ensure cooperation.”

“Yes.  That’s why I’m going to give you as much information about this group as I’m allowed, and you should inform your team and anyone else you can think of that could be used against you.”

“Group?”

“I’m afraid so.”  Catherine moved the first two files out of the way and opened the last one.  It was double in size and thickness compared to the others.  “The first Bairaz that we know about was operating in the late 1940’s, following World War II.  At the time, many international law enforcement agencies were in the process of trying to apprehend and prosecute war criminals, but the political and sociological landscapes were a big mess.  Because of that, it was relatively easy for those criminals, especially lesser known ones, to flee, leaving their families – and grieving victims – behind.

“Enter a man calling himself ‘Bairaz’.  The English word _boar_ stems from the Old English word _bar_ , which is in turn thought to be derived from the West Germanic _bairaz_ – hence the name.  We believe he chose it because wild boars are aggressive and unpredictable animals, and their attacks on humans are categorized by the penetrating wounds left by their tusks.  Bairaz has used a number of torture methods, but he favors those that involve stabbing or slashing.”

“How very fascinating,” said Steve.  He wished she’d hurry it along.  These trivial facts hardly seemed relevant.

She grinned and shrugged.  “Sorry.  I find it interesting, but I’ll get to the good stuff.  The mark that we’ve come to associate with his work began to show up on the bodies of those known to have ties to those missing war criminals.”  She pulled out an old black-and-white photograph of someone’s forearm, where the boar mark had been sliced into the skin.  “And lo and behold, the fugitives started to turn up dead, or were apprehended.

“Wonderful as it was for law enforcement and the families of victims, Bairaz wasn’t assisting in the execution or capture of those criminals because of any altruistic tendencies.  He was _hired_ to find them.  It was how he made a living, and so long as he was paid, he’d take any job.  He held allegiance to no one but himself, and his work benefited both sides of the law.”

“He was a mercenary,” Steve summarized.

“Yes, and since our country benefited from his early work, agents looked the other way - not that it would have mattered if they hadn’t.  He was, and still is, a mastermind at covering his tracks.  Decades later, we still have no clue who the original was, or even a basic description of what he _might_ look like.”

“The original?  So the guy that murdered Kalia Meier IS a copycat?”

“We think he’s more than that.”  Catherine dug through more of the pictures in the file.  She selected three of them and laid them out before Steve.  “What do you make of these?”

Steve compared them side-by-side.  They too showed the boar mark, etched into the lower back, thigh and forehead of three distinct individuals.  At first glance, they looked identical, but when he held them up for a closer inspection, he could pick out tiny differences.  “This one,” he pointed to the one on the victim’s forehead, “looks the same as that first one you showed me, but I don’t think these other two were made by the same person.”

“That’s right,” Catherine confirmed.  “These pictures were taken from crime scenes in the mid 70’s.  Forensic science and evidence collection wasn’t as sophisticated back then, but the report for these other two say that police found a partial scraps of paper with the boar drawing on them.  The theory is that whoever did these couldn’t recreate it from memory and needed a reference on hand.

“Moreover, all three victims were attacked within days of each other in different countries.  And since these crimes pre-date the internet, this information wasn’t out there for any killer to copy.”

Steve meditated on that and reached the horrifying conclusion the C.I.A. had.  “And that’s why you think it’s a group.”

Catherine nodded grimly.  “It started out with one man, but somewhere along the line, he decided to take on apprentices and build himself a business network.  At best, we’ve verified that there are currently seven mercenaries operating under the ‘Bairaz’ name, and all of them use identical tactics to achieve their goals.  Unless we catch a major break, it will be impossible to determine how many there have been over the years.  We don’t know the race, gender or ages of the operatives, how they are recruited and trained, or if the original is still alive.”

Steve glared at the thick, useless file.  “What _does_ the C.I.A. know?”

“Not enough.  And there’s a lot I can’t share with you.  But because there’s a chance that Bairaz will come after you for intel about Matrix, I’ve been granted permission to give you an overview of their collective M.O. and a generic profile.  This way, you’ll know what to look out for.”

“Okay.”

“Here’s how the scenario usually plays out: someone who doesn’t want to get their hands dirty hires a Bairaz to obtain information and provides him with an initial target - in other words, the person that can get it for him.  Next, he conducts surveillance on that target to determine who that person is close to or cares about, a victim who he can use as leverage.  He then abducts the victim and takes them to a secondary location where there is little to no chance of them being discovered.  Within a day or two, he calls the target, often using the victim’s own phone, with GPS tracking disabled, and lays out his demands.  He never gives a specific deadline; the time limit depends on how long the victim can withstand some form of physical torture - a guarantee that his request will be met as quickly as possible.”

“Hold on.”  Steve held up a hand to pause the description.  “That seems like a lot of trouble to go through just for information.  Why doesn’t Bairaz just figure out a way to steal it himself - learn how to hack or break into places?”

“Well, that’s where psychology plays a role,” Catherine answered.  “Bairaz, the original and the subsequent versions, are sadists.  Interviews with surviving victims have revealed that the process is as much about their own enjoyment as it is about doing a job.  They get a thrill out of the hunt, and the pain they inflict on their captives.

“That’s also why they prefer NOT to kill their victims, if they can help it.  They carve their mark into the body somewhere - and there doesn’t seem to be a pattern as to where - and release them when they get what they want.  The victim and the target then have to spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders, wondering if someone's going to come back to finish the job.  It’s a mark of ownership.”

Steve nodded slowly, processing everything.

“Steve, let your team know that they need to be on the lookout for anything or anyone suspicious - vehicles tailing them, random encounters that put them on edge - any little thing that doesn’t sit right with them.  They’ve all got good instincts; I’m sure they’ll know if something’s not right.  If Bairaz decides to contact you about Matrix, he’ll probably try to grab someone from Five-0.”  Catherine’s tone remained sober, but there was a smirk playing on her lips.  “My suggestion is that you talk to Danny about all this first.”

Steve wriggled in his seat and cleared his throat.  “Why is that?

Catherine’s smirk grew wider, and she raised her brows.  “He’s the first one I’D go after if I wanted something from you.  It takes less than five minutes of observation to see that Danny means more to you than anything else.  There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.”

“I…”

“And while we’re on the subject, how are things between you two?  Have you told him you’re in love with him yet?”

Steve gaped like a fish.  It wasn’t so much the question itself that threw him off, so much as the person who’d asked it.  

“I’m guessing that means ‘no’,” she said, sounding disappointed.  “May I offer you some advice?”

Steve closed his mouth and nodded.

“You can’t spend your life stuck in one place and not take any chances.”  Catherine scooted her chair a little closer so that she could take his hand.  “Steve, you know I still care about you.  And I think you still care about me.  But you’ve been in love with Danny for a long time, and you can’t let fear or regrets hold you back from going after what you really want.  You need to tell him how you feel.”

Steve looked down at his lap.  “And what if he doesn’t feel the same way?”  God, he sounded like a dorky teenager, but his fight with Danny had reawakened the doubts he thought he’d overcome.

“Then you go on being friends.  Think about it - if you and I HAD gotten married, Danny would still have been a major part of your life; that wouldn’t have changed.  I don’t think anything could.”  She squeezed his fingers.  “And - I probably shouldn’t say this - but it’s obvious that Danny’s in love with you too.”

“How can you know that?”

“You forget – I worked with you guys.  I saw the way you two looked at each other.  I think Danny might have been a little slower to catch on, but he’s definitely on board now.”  Catherine let go of his hand and picked up her mug to drink the last remnants of her coffee.  “That’s a portion of what we talked about in his office,  that day I came to collect the Meier files.  I asked him if you two were together now.  At first, he tried to change the subject, went on the offensive about what I was doing there and how that would affect you.  But I kept after him to tell the truth.”

“And he said he loved me?”

“Not in so many words,  but when he glanced at you, it was with such – _yearning_ , like the thing he wanted most was just out of reach.”  

Yearning - was _that_ the look he couldn’t place, the one that Danny directed his way when he thought Steve wasn’t paying attention?  

“You should go for it Steve.”

Steve didn’t speak while he contemplated her words, and she didn’t pressure him to say anything.  She was right of course, maybe not about Danny - he wouldn’t know for sure until he talked to the man himself - but certainly the part about needing to take chances.

He lifted a hand to his stomach, feeling for the transplant scar over the fabric of his shirt.  He’d almost lost his life, and it was Danny - _always_ Danny - who saved him.  If that wasn’t proof of their devotion to one another, then he didn’t know what was.

Steve fished his phone out of his pocket to call his partner.  Maybe it wasn’t too late to salvage their date.

* * *

Steve hung up when Danny’s voicemail message began for the umpteenth time and flung it on the desk.  He thought his hot-blooded colleague would have cooled off by Monday afternoon - having had the weekend and the extra day off to think, but perhaps he’d underestimated Danny’s sensitivity.  He had said he’d been making progress with his therapist, but the tension that had developed between them may have set him back.  Since their argument over the phone on Saturday morning, Danny had refused to speak to him, and only replied to his messages with vague texts.

Steve massaged his forehead and berated himself, wondering how much damage he’d inflicted on their relationship.  He should have gone over to his house, but Danny had made it very clear that he wanted to be left alone.  Under normal circumstances, Steve would have just barged in anyway and let the Jersey native howl at him until he was out of energy, but the SEAL thought that a more considerate approach might go over better.  He’d left several voicemails with sincere and heartfelt apologies and multiple requests to either return his calls or reschedule their dinner, but Danny wasn’t having it.  

Much as it pained him, Steve decided to wait for Danny to figure out when he was ready to talk.  That left the whole thing in his court, and Steve would just have to be patient.

In the meantime, he’d briefed the rest of the team on everything Catherine had told him, along with instructions to let him know immediately if they had any inclinations that they were being watched or followed.  He intended to do the same with Danny tonight or first thing tomorrow, assuming that he was ready to hash it out with him.  

He’d also let Catherine know that there _had_ been a couple of instances over the past couple of weeks that put him on edge, but he’d put away tons of perps over the years, any one of whom could come after him; Bairaz didn’t have to be the culprit.  Nevertheless, Catherine gave him the number for one of her phones and made him promise to call her if anything happened.

The door to his office opened.  Kono entered and handed him a file.  “I’m done with my report for the Kahala B. and E’s.  Just need your signature.”

“Great,” said Steve.  “I’ll review it later.”  He tossed it on the ‘IN’ pile.  

Kono plunked down into one of the chairs and folded her hands.

“Um, okay.  I’m guessing there’s something else on your mind?”

“You told us that Catherine gave you the update on the Meier/Boar case on Saturday,” she recalled.

“Yeah.”

“Steve, did you blow off Danny to see her?  Is that why he’s mad at you?”

Steve didn’t know how she knew that, but didn’t ask.  When it came to Kono, sometimes he was better off not knowing.  “Not exactly,” he maintained.  “I mean, you make it sound like it was a date or something.  I agreed to meet her because she said it was urgent and that it was about the case.  And considering what she told me, I’m glad she did.”

Kono studied him, doubt evident in her penetrating stare.  “And that’s really the _only_ reason, boss?”

“Yes,” said Steve truthfully.  “What are you after here?”

“It’s just – Danny was really looking forward to spending the day with you.  He texted me about it a couple of times Friday evening.”

Steve reclined in his chair, shame welling up anew under her disappointed stare.  “Cut me some slack, Kono.  Don’t you think I feel bad enough as it is?  I didn’t want to cancel, but I…”  

“Boss,” Kono admonished,  “you two REALLY need to get on the same page with what you’re thinking and feeling.”

It dawned on Steve that she knew A LOT more than she was telling.  “Did he tell you what he was planning?”

Kono nodded.  “I had my suspicions about what was bothering him.  When I asked, he confided in me.  I told him that he needed to be honest with you.”

“About what?”

“You would know if you had gone to his place for dinner on Saturday, like you said you would.”

Steve rarely got angry with her, but the fact that she was in the know, and perfectly right about his ignorance and ineptitude, grated on his nerves.  “Kono, I-”

His cell sprang to life before he could argue, buzzing loudly and shifting across the desk from the force of the vibrations.  He checked the caller I.D. and found ‘Gracie Williams’ flickering up at him.  He groaned inwardly, believing that either Danny was childishly employing his daughter to speak on his behalf, or she was taking the initiative to berate him for getting into another fight with her Danno.  He loved her like she was his own daughter, but he wasn’t thrilled about facing her exasperation.  

Nevertheless, he tapped the ‘ANSWER’ button.  “Hi Gracie.  What’s up?”

_“Uncle Steve?  Is my dad with you?”_

Steve frowned.  “No.  He took the day off.  Why do you ask?”

Grace hesitated; Steve pictured her biting her lip with worry. _“Charlie and I are supposed to stay with him for the next two weeks while Mom and Step-Stan are in England.  They flew out after dropping us off for school this morning, and Dad was going to pick us up after.  But it’s been almost an hour and he’s not here.”_

Steve shot to his feet and gestured for a confused Kono to follow him out into the hall.  “And you tried calling him?”  

The others saw them approach the table and paused what they were doing.

 _“Five times,”_ Grace confirmed. _“And I sent him like twenty texts.  He hasn’t answered ANY of them.  I was hoping he was just busy with a case?”_

Steve heard the hope in the question and hated to have to squash it.  “No, I’m afraid not.  But don’t you worry, Gracie.  I’m sure he just took a nap or something and didn’t hear his phone ring.”  It was a poor excuse, and they both knew it.  There were few things in this life that Steve knew with utter certainty, and one was that Daniel Williams never failed to be there for his children.  If he hadn’t shown up, or called his daughter to let her know he was running late or had altered their plans, then something _had_ to be wrong.  Grace knew that as well, and was unfortunately old enough and smart enough to understand the dangerous nature of her father’s job and its potential consequences.

“Listen, I’m gonna send Jerry to pick you up.  He’ll take you to my place, and I’ll find Danno and kick his butt for making you worry.  Okay, sweetheart?”  He injected his words with as much humor and confidence as he could muster.

_“Okay.  Thanks, Uncle Steve.”_

“You bet.  I’ll see you later, kiddo.”

“Who am I picking up?” asked Jerry, sounding annoyed that he’d been volunteered for something out of the blue.

Steve lifted a finger to delay that and any other questions and tried to call Danny again.

Once more, there was no answer.

“Grace and Charlie,” Steve answered after he’d hung up.  He discarded the sanguine act.  “Danny was supposed to pick them up from school an hour ago, but he didn’t show and hasn’t answered Gracie’s calls.”

That put everyone on high alert.  Like Steve, they knew that this was cause for alarm.

“Here’s the address; I’ll call ahead to the school to let them know who you are.  I’m listed as a secondary emergency contact for the kids, so I should be able to get the faculty to release them to you.  If there’s any trouble, have their teachers call me.”  Steve sent a text to Jerry’s phone with the school’s information.  “Take them to my place and stay with them until I tell you otherwise.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys.  He unhooked a spare to the front door of his house and chucked it to him.  “You can take them to Kamekona’s if they’re hungry, but don’t say or do anything to worry them.  I’ll call you as soon as we find Danny.”

“You got it.”  Jerry made a hasty exit.

The instant he was gone, Chin inquired, “Does Danny know what Catherine told you - that we could be targeted by The Boar?  You don’t think…”

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Steve decided.  “There could be any number of reasons he’s not answering.”

“Have his kids spoken with him over the weekend?” asked Lou.  “Have _you_?”

“I don’t know about Grace or Charlie.”  Steve wanted to smack himself; that would have been a smart question to consider before he’d hung up with the teenager.  “But he did text me a few times.”

Abby tilted her head.  “Just texts?  You didn’t actually _talk_ to him?”

“Well, no.  But he’s pissed off at me.”

“Hold on; I’ll trace his phone and vehicle, and pull up his call records,” Chin offered.  He immediately got to work.  “Okay, looks like his last outgoing call was to you on Saturday.  The GPS chip in his phone and on his vehicle shows he was at home when he called you.  He also got an incoming call from his ex-wife.  She left him a two minute voicemail.  Huh.  That’s strange.”

“What?”  Kono moved closer to her cousin to look over his shoulder.

“His car never moved, and his phone records confirm that he sent and received texts, yet I can’t get a fix on a location after his call to Steve.  The signal bounces all over the place.  Take a look.”  

Chin shifted the information from the table to the screens so they could all see it more clearly.  “For example: Steve, you sent him a text at one twenty-five on Sunday, and Danny replied at one thirty.”

“Right,” Steve said.

“But look what happens when I input those times into the tracking system.”

A satellite map of Oahu's cell towers popped up.  Chin typed the specified times into a search engine, and the map lit up like a Christmas tree.  Every tower on the island blinked.

“Could there be a glitch in the system?” Abby wondered.

“It’s possible,” said Chin.  “But it’s also possible that something or someone is deliberately interfering with the signal.”

“Find out,” Steve ordered.  “And while you’re doing that, the rest of us will split up and look for him.  Lou, you and Kono to go his house.  Abby, call Kamekona and anyone else you can think of that he might have had contact with over the weekend.  I’ll go check his favorite haunts.  Maybe he took off to clear his head and forgot to take his phone with him.”  That too was unlikely, but no one pointed that out.

“Chin, you coordinate from here, and keep trying Danny’s number.  We’ll call you if we find anything.”

“Right.”

“Let’s go.”  Steve waved them off, and his task force scattered, all of them equally determined to find their missing member.


	6. Defeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture in this chapter, including art (its nothing super graphic though).

_‘He’s fine,'_ Steve thought.   _'_ _Danny’s fine.  He’s just gone AWOL because he’s furious with me, and his PTSD is making him careless.’_ He echoed some variation of such notions over and over, though no amount of repetition would make it true.  Yet he could not afford to let himself think otherwise, lest he work himself into a frenzy.  He needed to remain optimistic, if not for his own sanity, then for Grace and Charlie’s sakes.

Regardless of his determination to keep that positive mindset, Steve could not deny the likelihood that something had happened to his friend.  Thinking back on it, the few texts he’d received from Danny over the weekend did not contain any of his customary passive-aggressive snarkiness, nor did they directly address any of Steve’s questions about his status or attempts to apologize.  Most of them had been something along the lines of _‘I’ll talk to you about it later’_ or _‘not now.’_  

Danny wasn’t one to hold a grudge for long, but Steve had assumed that he’d been too hurt or touchy to talk to him sooner.  In hindsight, that had been a stupid supposition.  Whatever he’d said on Saturday, Danny should have gotten himself worked up enough to go over to Steve’s to scream at him in person by the next morning at the latest.  That he never did should have raised a red flag.

The first place Steve checked was Danny’s special spot at Diamond Head Lookout.  He always went there whenever there had been a major incident that put him through the wringer - his initial move to the state, his brother’s murder, and finding out that Charlie was _his_ son, to name a few.  Something about that place helped Danny put things into perspective, and Steve remembered that he had a tendency to shut off his phone when he was there.

Steve arrived and found the lookout area deserted.  Danny’s favorite spot on the wall was vacant.

He left the Silverado running and got out to perform a visual sweep of the landscape.  It yielded nothing out of the ordinary.  Steve wiped his mouth and tried to think.

 _‘Don’t panic,’_ he reminded himself.  After all, this was only the first place he’d checked.  There were a number of other places Danny could be: the gym, the children’s hospital, a bar, maybe even his old partner’s grave.

Steve’s phone began to ring.  He sprinted back to the truck and seized the device from the cup holder.  “Chin, any news?”

 _“No sign of_ **_him_ ** _, but Lou and Kono found evidence of a struggle at his house - broken glass, overturned furniture, groceries dumped out on the floor, and…”_

“And what?”

_“Blood.  At least they think that’s what it is.  But Steve, there’s not a lot, and there’s no telling who it belongs to.  C.S.U. is on their way over to process; we’ll know more once they run a D.N.A. comparison.”_

The mention of blood was like a blow to the chest, and the clarification that there wasn’t much did not stop his heart from doing its best impersonation of a jackhammer.  “Alright.  I'm heading there now.”  He switched on the sirens and sped off, dread fueling his need to get there as quickly as possible.

* * *

Lou’s SUV, two HPD squad cars and a crime scene unit van was parked outside of Danny’s modest house when Steve pulled up.  Officers were sectioning off the yard with yellow tape, and a woman from C.S.U. was dusting the outside of Danny’s vehicle for prints.

Five-0 as a whole had its share of enemies, as did each individual member.  There was always a possibility that one or more of them could be attacked in their homes.  Steve knew this, but - call it denial, call it overconfidence - he hadn’t worried about it too much.  Every one of his friends was more than capable of defending themselves, and if for some reason they couldn’t, each of them trusted their Ohana to save them.

As Steve stalked up to the open front door, he tried to take solace from that.  Steve WOULD find his partner, and whoever had harmed or taken him would very soon find themselves on the receiving end of Steve’s full wrath.

Lou met him at the door.  “Looks like Danny put up a fight.  Most of the damage is localized to the kitchen, but-”

Steve walked past him, barely listening.  He needed to see for himself.

The living room was intact for the most part, save for a photo that had fallen off the wall, shattering its frame.  Another crime scene technician was collecting glass fragments and placing them, and the photo itself, in an evidence bag.  When the tech turned it over, Steve saw that it was a photo of himself and Danny, taken by Grace during a day at the park.  The two of them were leaning against the Camaro, arms around one another and smiling.  Steve had never noticed it before; Danny must have had his daughter send it to him so that he could have it printed and framed.  

Steve stepped over the technician and proceeded into the kitchen.

“Watch your step,” Lou warned.

Grover had been correct - the fight had definitely happened there.  The contents of a grocery bag had spilled out all over the floor, including a carton of eggs, various vegetables (now rotting from being left out), and a few other ingredients that would make a fine, Italian-style dinner.  Two kitchen chairs had been thrown aside, and the table had been shoved out of its normal placement.  The dish rack had been knocked off the counter, and pieces of broken plates littered the ground.

Kono was standing in front of the refrigerator behind Eric.  Danny’s nephew was photographing something on the surface of the freezer door.

“Hey, E-train,” Steve greeted.

Five-0’s favorite lab technician let go of the camera, the strap around his neck catching it, and turned to Steve.  His near-constant, vivacious energy and wide grin were absent.  “Yo.”  He released a heavy breath.  “Never thought I’d be processing Uncle D’s house as a crime scene.”

“You and me both.”  Steve shifted his attention to the fridge.

A spot of a dark red, viscous substance had tainted the white surface.  The stain was small, maybe about the size of a credit card, but it was at the approximate height of where Danny’s head would be if he’d been standing there.

Eric opened a pocket on his vest, pulled out two cotton swabs, and collected samples.  “I’ll get this back to the lab ASAP and run a DNA comparison - see if it belongs to Uncle D.”

“Good.  Let us know the minute you have the results.”  Steve avoided using the words ‘a match’ in an effort to remain positive.  After all, the blood wasn’t necessarily Danny’s.  

“Sure.”  Eric applied caps to the swabs, though it took a couple of tries before he managed it.  His hands were a little unsteady.

Steve touched the young man’s shoulder.  “Eric, are you sure you can handle this?  I know it’s not easy when it's someone you love.  We can get another technician to take over for you.”

Kono chimed in, “Technically speaking, relatives are barred from investigating cases involving family.”

“Nah.  I wanna help.  Besides, if family’s excluded from participating, then you all should be off the case too.”  He shook his head and circled around them while dodging the debris on the floor.  “I’m headin’ back to the lab now to run this.”  He rushed out of there.

Kono collected herself from reflecting on Eric’s rather sweet statement about family and walked the perimeter of the room.  “Okay, based on the fact that there were no signs of forced entry, I’m thinking it went down like this: Danny gets home from the grocery store; he’s unloading his car and his hands are full, so he doesn’t lock the door right away.  The suspect sneaks in behind him and tries to blitz him, but Danny fights back.  They struggle, and the guys smashes Danny’s head against the freezer, probably knocking him out.”

Steve glanced around, looking for bullet holes.  “Were any shots fired?”

“Not that we can tell,” Lou answered.  “But Danny’s service pistol and badge are missing.  No way of knowing if he had them on him or if the kidnapper took them.”

Steve led them back through the house and out into the front yard.  “Any of the neighbors see anything?”

Kono nodded to the small crowd of curious onlookers that had begun to gather across the street.  “Officers are doing interviews now.”

“But if this is the work of Bairaz-” Lou started.

“We don’t know for sure that he’s behind this,” Steve all but snapped.  It was wishful thinking more than any kind of hunch, and they knew that.

Lou placed his hands on his hips.  “We can’t dismiss the possibility either.  You gotta admit, the timing is awfully convenient.  Catherine turns up to tell you that we might be targeted by Bairaz because of one of your old missions, and then Danny goes missing?”

“Are you saying you think Catherine has something to do with this?”  Steve could hardly think of anything less likely.

“Of course not,” Lou refuted.  “But you said that Catherine knows more about this Matrix guy than you, her job doesn’t have her staying in one place for long, and she’s got few significant ties to anyone.  Now I think it's safe to say that she’d still help you out of a jam if you needed.  What if Bairaz _waited_ until she was in town to brief you, close enough for you to contact in the event of an emergency?”

“She’s not here anymore.  She left for L.A. yesterday.”

“But didn't she give you an unlisted phone number?” asked Kono.  “That’s not something you had access to before.”

Steve thought it over.  “Okay, maybe you’re right.  But until we’re sure, let’s keep looking at other possibilities besides Bairaz.  I want you two to stay and help interview the neighbors.  I talked to Danny on Saturday morning, and he mentioned that he’d just gotten home from shopping.  Nothing was put away, so he had to have been attacked shortly after we hung up.  It was broad daylight; I refuse to believe that no one saw anything.

“I’m going to head back to the palace and look into some of Danny’s cases.  I don’t know - perhaps someone he put away is out on parole and has decided to seek revenge.”

Lou and Kono clearly weren’t buying that as a likely scenario, but Steve didn’t want to think about the alternative.  Catherine had allowed him to look through more past crime scene photos in the Bairaz file, and he did not want to imagine Danny going through any of that.

“Alright,” said Kono.

“We’ll meet you back at headquarters,” Lou concurred.

Steve waved them off, and they went their separate ways.

He jumped into his truck, and then glanced one more time at Danny’s house, sealed off with crime scene tape, and his beloved Camaro in the driveway, its door handles and trunk covered in fingerprint dust.

Steve leaned forward and touched his forehead to the steering wheel.

* * *

Hours later, they hadn’t made much progress.  Everyone Abby called reported having had no direct contact with Danny after Saturday morning, including volunteers at the children’s hospital.  Steve had told her that he’d had plans to spend the day there on Sunday, but he hadn’t shown up.  Adrian Paoa had just presumed that he’d been busy at work.

Lou and Kono came up empty-handed with the neighborhood canvass, Chin had had no luck figuring out why the GPS systems went haywire whenever he tried to track Danny’s phone, and Steve didn’t find any recent parolees with an ax to grind.  Danny's wallet had been found in the Camaro, but his badge and gun were still missing.  Other than that, there was little else to go on.  As with Kalia Meier, they had absolutely nothing.

Terrible as that had been, the worst part for Steve had been contacting Rachel to let her know that Danny was missing.   She seemed to have taken the news all right, but Steve detected a slight tremor in her voice whenever she said Danny’s name.  That had irritated Steve to an irrational degree; he liked her about as much as Danny liked Catherine.  Nonetheless, he stayed calm and professional, promised her that he would do everything in his power to find Danny, and would ensure that Grace and Charlie would be cared for until she returned.

Eric appeared in the ops center late into the evening, his face pale.  “Its confirmed - the blood on the fridge is Uncle D’s,” he said.  “And there was no other foreign DNA or fingerprints anywhere else.”

“Not good,” Lou mumbled.

“But not unexpected,” said Chin.

Eric looked like he wanted to vomit.  He’d processed some truly gruesome crime scenes without batting an eye, but one involving Danny - a man who was more like a father to him than an uncle - had shaken his cheerful exuberance.  “So what’s our next move?” he pressed.

“YOUR next move,” said Steve, “is to head over to my place.”

“Wha…?”

Steve motioned for Eric to follow him into his office.  “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Eric’s eyes lit up.  “Yeah, sure.  Anything you need, if it’ll help find Uncle D.”

Steve leaned against his desk.  “Actually, I need you to look after your cousins.  Rachel and Stan are in England right now, but they’re going to catch the next flight back.  Jerry is with Grace and Charlie right now, but you’re family.  I think they might worry a little less if you’re with them.  You’ve done all you can here.  I would go, but I need to stay and run the investigation.”

“Ah - right.  Okay.”  Eric bobbed his head.  “Yeah, I can do that, I guess.”

“Good.  Why don’t you stop by your apartment and pack a bag?  The three of you will stay together at my house until Rachel gets back, or I find Danno.”

“You’ll call me if you find anything?” Eric asked.

“Of course.  But make sure you don’t say anything to Gracie and Charlie about the blood.”

“Grace is a smart girl, Steve - way smarter than me.  She’s gonna know something’s up.”

“I know.  Just tell her to stay positive, and I will come home later and explain whatever I can.”

Eric sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, not unlike the way Danny did when he was stressed.  “Okay.”

“Uh, guys?” Chin called from the ops center.  “We’ve got an incoming video message on our main line.  It’s originating from Danny’s phone, but I still can’t pinpoint its location.”

Steve and Eric sprinted out of the office.  Everyone gathered around the comm table, their eyes fixed on the screen.  They were all still and silent as optimism grew in their hearts, but none more so than Steve.  He hoped that Danny was the one making the call.

“Answer it.  Put it on the screen.”  Steve gestured to the primary display.

Chin pressed “accept” on the smart table and slid the open window into view as requested.

A shadowy image flickered into focus.  Instead of their missing detective, a different figure altogether stared down at them from an angle.  He appeared to be quite tall, overly muscular, and he was dressed in black combat gear – including a baseball cap, tactical vest, gloves and boots.  A rubber mask obscured the top half of his face, concealing key identifying features.

The mask resembled that of a boar.

 _“Commander Steve McGarrett, Five-0 - it’s an honor to speak with you at long last.”_ He waved both of his hands in greeting.

The team exchanged cursory glances at one another.  Kono went to work, using her tablet to record the video for further analysis.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Steve demanded, though the question was unnecessary.

The figure chuckled.  _"Short_ _and to the point as always, Commander.  I can appreciate that.  But given our history, and our future collaboration, I think a formal introduction is in order.  You may call me ‘Bairaz’.  I believe you are familiar with my work.”_

Steve knew the man’s identity upon seeing the mask, and the knot of tension that had receded at the prospect of hearing from Danny returned, then coiled even further at receiving the confirmation.

“We are indeed,” Chin broke in, his voice passive and even.  “And I must say, it was exquisitely done.”

Kono shot her cousin a dirty look, and while Steve shared the sentiment, they didn’t have enough data on this guy to know what techniques would be effective in coercing information from him.  When in doubt, flattery was always a good place to start – especially when a life might be on the line.

 _“I do pride myself on my artistry,”_ Bairaz admitted, though there was no inflection to his tone to match his words.  More frustrating still was the lack of an identifiable accent or any other distinguishing features.

“Artistry?” Lou growled.  “You call that artistry?  More like butchery!  The things you’ve done to your victims…”    

The man shrugged. _“All a necessary part of the job.  You understand, don’t you, McGarrett?”_

“What I understand, is that you’ve got a rap sheet a mile long and a body count higher than some of this country’s worst serial killers.  We are _nothing_ alike.”

 _“Agree to disagree,”_ Bairaz sighed. _“At any rate, I hope you can at least appreciate the effectiveness of my methods, which is why I’m sure you won’t have any trouble cooperating with my latest assignment.”_

“There will be no cooperation,” Steve barked.  “Five-0 does not negotiate with criminals.”

_“No?  Not even for one of its own?”_

A gloved hand obscured the screen to adjust the angle towards something just out of sight.  Then the hand and the body it was attached to moved away to reveal an exhibition of Steve’s worst fear.  The entire Five-0 team reacted with shouts of indignation and horror.

Danny Williams was sitting on an old kitchen chair, his ankles bound to its legs and his arms restrained behind his back.  Even in the dim light, Steve noticed that his partner’s hair and clothes were a mess, torn and stained with a red fluid that he prayed wasn’t blood.  The detective’s chin was dropped to his chest, and he was gagged with a tie.  

He was completely motionless.

“Danny!” Kono shouted.

Lou let out a groan.  “Dear Lord…”

 _“As you can see, Detective Williams and I have been getting acquainted with one another.”_  The kidnapper paused. _“Rather an unpleasant fellow, if you ask me, but his Jersey bulldog attitude can be quite entertaining.”_

Well, it was good to know that Danny was continuing to put up a fight – not that Steve would expect any less of his partner.  But it did nothing to assuage his distress, or the rising rage that was beginning to boil beneath his skin.  He bit back a number of threats and demands that his vengeance-fueled wrath supplied him.  “What do you want?” he growled.

The man clapped his hands. _“Ah, very good.  I can see that you catch on quickly, so I’ll get right to the point.  Operation Archimedes.”_

Steve sensed the other members of Five-0 glancing at him, but he needed to appear calm and collected for the time being.  “What about it?”

_“The target of that operation – the one to which Archimedes refers – I want any and all information you can give me on his current location.”_

Steve narrowed his eyes.  “That’s it?  Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t know anything about that.”

 _“No,”_ Bairaz agreed. _“I didn’t think you would off-hand.  But you have the necessary connections to get the intel I need.  And you will use every single one of them to do so.”_  He reached into a pocket on his vest and retrieved a five inch switchblade. _“I believe the ‘or else’ goes without saying, but I’ve often found that very few take such threats seriously.  Either that, or they throw away the life I have in my hands in the name of ‘national security’.”_ There was a sigh in his voice, as though both scenarios bored him.      

He started to circle his unresponsive captive; one hand dancing across Danny’s shoulders while the other twirled the switchblade through his fingers.  “ _And waiting around is sooo dull!  You people are all the same – dragging your feet in the hopes that you’ll somehow be able to track me down and arrest me before the inevitable occurs.”_ He stopped and stood just behind Danny’s right side.   _“So I have to find something to occupy my time.  Something - like - THIS!”_ At the last word, he plunged the knife into the side of Danny’s chest, just beneath the collarbone.    

Danny’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he tried to cry out through his gag.

“Oh, god!”

“Uncle D!”

“You psycho bastard!”

Steve marched over to the display so that he could look directly into the camera.  “You listen to me, you son-of-a-bitch, do not lay another finger on him or so help me god, I will fucking rip your organs out through your throat!  You understand me?!”

Bairaz had the nerve to yawn, covering his mouth with his free hand.  “ _Yeah, yeah.  I’ve heard this all before.”_   He removed the blade from Danny’s body and resumed circling him, studying the patterns of blood emerging on his prisoner’s shirt.  

_“You’re probably aware of this from personal experience, McGarrett, but the human body is a remarkably durable piece of evolutionary engineering.  It is amazing how much pain and injury it can withstand.  The only way I’ve been able to keep my career at all interesting is to play a game with my – shall we say – leverage, while I wait.  The goal, as you might have guessed, is to determine how much pain and physical injury the body can withstand.  Now naturally, there are a lot of factors and variables at work here, often to do with height, and weight, and physicality among other things.  And the type of injuries sustained are also very important.”_

Bairaz tangled a hand in Danny’s hair and yanked his head to the side.  The adjusted angle illuminated his features, allowing Five-0 to make out bruises and a split lip.   _"_ _I softened him up a bit when we first met, and I’m sure with his line of work, he’s no stranger to beatings.  So the name of the game is ‘how many holes can I put in Detective Williams before he bleeds to death?’.  I’m gonna add one every hour until I get what I want.”_ He sneered at the screen.   _"_ _The current record is forty-seven.  What do you think, Five-0?  Care to place a wager on dear Danny’s chances?”_

Bairaz moved in to pick up the phone and held it up to his face.   _"_ _If you want him back alive, I suggest you start making some calls, Commander.”_

The screen spun around and zeroed in on their battered friend.  Danny looked into the camera, a difficult feat as his right eye was beginning to swell.  His face was a turmoil of emotions - fear, sorrow, defiance, and more besides - but all with an underlying message of _‘I won’t give up’_ and _‘Help me’ ._

_“If I may, perhaps you should start by calling that pretty little C.I.A. friend of yours.  And you might want to get to it, because time’s a factor here.  When you have the information, you may contact me via Detective Williams’s number.  I will then give you instructions on where to send it and, if he’s still alive, where you can retrieve your friend.”_

Bairaz’s masked face came back into view beside Danny’s, posing as though about to take a selfie. _“You know what you need to do, Commander.  Later!”_ The call dropped and the screen went dark.

“Oh god!  Oh Jesus!” Eric stumbled back; Lou caught him and helped him regain his balance.  “W-what do we do?”

“Steve?” asked Kono.

Steve whipped out his phone and scrolled through his contacts for the newest number added to the list.  He hit ‘dial’.  “We get him back,” he told the team.  

“Catherine, its me.  He’s got Danny.”

* * *

_Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick._

Steve sat at his desk, elbows propped up on its surface, fingers interlaced and pressed against his mouth.  His bloodshot eyes were glaring down at his phone.

_Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick._

He stood up, moved out from behind the desk and paced back and forth in front of it.  He rubbed his eyes, wiped his mouth and clenched his fingers into fists.

The phone didn’t ring.

_Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick._

He stopped in front of the window, pretending to look out over the beautiful Hawaiian landscape.  He crossed his arms and tapped his foot.  He whirled around and looked at the phone expectantly.

Once more, it did not ring.

_Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick._

Steve’s lower lip quivered, and his eyes welled with angry tears.

He screamed and ran to the opposite wall.  He seized the clock, with its incessant, mocking ticks and hurled it to the ground.  Then he raised his foot and smashed his heel onto it over and over again.

“Steve!  What are you doing?”  Chin charged into the room, but he did not attempt to stop Steve from destroying the clock.  He simply waited until Steve had reduced it to a pile of wires and gears.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“No, Chin!  I do not!  We’ve been at this for eighteen hours.  We’ve got absolutely no clue where Bairaz might be holding Danny,  I’ve exhausted every resource and personal favor I have, and Cath’s superiors are giving us the runaround.  And every time Bairaz calls asking for an update, or we call him, Danny’s - he…”  Steve collapsed onto the couch, head bowed into his hands.  

He and the team were utterly frazzled.  The others tried to help where they could by analyzing background images from the video calls for a possible location, or pulling apart stills of Bairaz pixel by pixel in the hope of finding something - _anything_ \- that might lead to an identification, but it had fallen to Steve to try and come up with some way to appease Bairaz.  He had offered up everything he remembered about _Operation Archimedes_ , but it was all old news to the mercenary.  At the bare minimum, he wanted the name of someone who had direct contact with Matrix, but Steve’s efforts to obtain one were all for naught.  

He desperately needed food and sleep, but more than that, he needed Danny back.  It had become all too easy to picture pale, torn skin, and blue eyes whose fiery light was growing dimmer and dimmer as the hours dragged on.

“Chin, I don’t know how much longer he can hold on.”

“I know, Steve.  But the clock is hardly to blame for that.”

“No,” the SEAL concurred.  “I am.”

Chin sat down next to him.  “How do you figure that, _brah_?”

Steve drew a shaky breath.  “I was supposed to be there.  I was supposed to spend the day with Danny, but I canceled to meet with Catherine.”

“Because she needed to warn us about Bairaz.  Steve, you couldn’t have known that that’s when he would strike.

Steve went on as though he hadn’t heard him.  “And our last conversation, the things I said - Chin, if we don’t save him, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

“We’ll get him back,” Chin assured him.  “Look, I don’t know what went down between the two of you, but I DO know that beating yourself up over it is not going to help us find Danny.”

“I know that!” Steve snapped, bolting upright.

“Then act like it,” Chin retorted.  “Have you considered the other options we’ve put out there?  What about Jerry’s idea to feed him fake intel?”

Steve resisted the urge to bite off Chin’s head for his seeming lack of compassion, but he was right.  There would be plenty of time for Steve to condemn his poor choices later.  “I ran it by Catherine, but she said that Bairaz has a way of determining whether or not the information he receives is genuine.  She didn’t explain how, but we don’t have time to figure that out.  Unless we come up with something else, our best bet is to hope that she convinces someone to see this as an opportunity to catch him, and give us legitimate data concerning Matrix’s whereabouts.”

“If they really wanted to take this guy out, you’d think they’d jump at the chance to set up a trap."

“If it were anyone else, I think they would.  But they’re not willing to risk the safety of Matrix and everything he’s built for one random police officer.”

Chin nodded.  “I can see their point.”  He held up his hands to stop Steve’s protest.  “I don’t agree with it, but I’m close to the situation.  Danny’s my friend, and I’ll do whatever it takes to save him.  But the C.I.A. doesn’t know him from a hole in the ground.  To them, he’s an acceptable loss.”

Steve understood that too; he’d faced similar dilemmas himself more than once throughout his Navy career - the eternal debate of the value of one life, the measurement of one versus many.  

But this was _Danny’s_ life they were talking about.  It was not, and never would be, an ‘acceptable’ loss.

“We can’t give up, Steve.  We have to believe that Catherine’s going to figure _something_ out.”  Chin mustered a small smile.  “Besides, this IS Danny we’re talking about.  There’s no way in hell he’s not fighting with everything he has to stay alive, or maybe even escape on his own.  No way he’s going to leave Grace and Charlie without a father.”

Steve took some encouragement from that.  That was one of the reasons he hadn’t told the kids what was going on.  Eric was doing a decent job of evading Gracie’s questions.  Sooner or later, Steve would have to return home and face them himself, but he wanted to spare her the torture he was going through - the knowledge that their Danno was suffering and may die at any given moment.  No; it was bad enough that they knew he was missing.  The gory details surrounding the circumstances were not something they were ready to hear.

“Steve!  Hey, Steve!”

He and Chin hopped up and ran into the conference area.  “What?  What is it?”

Kono held out her phone.  “It’s Catherine.  She’s been trying to call you, but it kept going straight to voicemail.”

“Fuck!  I must have forgot to charge it.”  Steve plucked the cell out of her hand.  “Cath.  Please tell me you have something.”

 _“I do,”_ she replied.   _"_ _I might not have a job after this, but I got the name and address for one of Matrix’s former lab assistants.  It’s been a couple of months since they last had contact, and he can’t give us a definitive location, but it's the most we’re going to get.  But knowing Bairaz, it should be sufficient.  My flight just landed; I’m on my way to the palace now.”_

* * *

The second she appeared, Five-0 beckoned her over to the comm table and prepared to call Bairaz.  Explanations and thanks could wait until they got their missing man back.  

Kono inserted Catherine’s flash drive into a USB port.  “Are we sure this will be enough?” she asked.  She leaned against her cousin for support.

“It’s too late for second guessing,” Catherine replied.  She nodded to Jerry, who in turn hit the speed dial for Danny’s cell on the table.  An audio window popped up on the screen in front of them.

Steve drummed his fingers on the table, waiting anxiously for the line to pick up.  Bairaz usually answered right away, and he had no clue what might delay him.  The team’s tension increased with each unanswered ring.  

“You don’t think-” Abby started, but she was cut short when the line finally connected.

 _“Commander McGarrett!”_ exclaimed Bairaz. _"So nice to hear from you!  How are we doing with your assignment?”_

Contrary to the friendly words, the man sounded out of breath, as though he’d been running, and there was the faintest edge of panic in his soft voice.

“I have a name,” Steve declared.  “A former lab assistant that was in contact with Matrix five months ago.  It’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.”

 _“Excellent!  Then you can go ahead and upload it to this address.”_ An email link appeared via a text message.  

“Before we do, I want to talk to my partner.”

Bairaz clucked his tongue.  " _Tsk, tsk, Commander.  That’s not how this works.  Give me what I want first, and then you can have your precious detective back.”_

“Can you give us a moment, please?” Catherine asked.

 _“The clock’s ticking,”_ Bairaz warned. _“But go ahead.”_

She pressed the button that would mute the conversation from their end.  “Steve, something doesn’t feel right about this.”

The others appeared conflicted too, and Steve would be lying if he said his instincts weren’t warning him as well.  “We don’t have a choice.  You said it yourself: this is the only chance we have to save Danny.  We have to risk it.”  He re-established the sound.  “Bairaz.”

_“What’s it going to be, Commander?”_

Steve signaled to Jerry.  “We’re uploading it now.”

Jerry attached Catherine’s file to an outgoing email, and sent it to the address provided.  “Done.”

The group heard a faint _ping_ over the call.   _"_ _Good.  Looks like you’ve delivered as promised.”_

“You have what you wanted,” Steve said.  “Now you hold up your end of the bargain.  Tell us where we can find Danny.”

_“Oh, Commander; I’m afraid there’s no need.  The coroner will notify you soon enough.”_

All sound and movement ceased in an instant.  The team stood shell-shocked, and looked to one another for confirmation that they’d heard correctly.

“What - what did you say?” Kono demanded, her voice trembling.

_“So sorry to have to say this, but I encountered a - shall we say - a bit of a hiccup.  It was an unfortunate circumstance, bad timing really.  But as a result, I had no choice but to dispose of Detective Williams.”_

The room erupted in outcries.

“What?”

“You’re lying!”

“You bastard!”

Steve slammed his fists against the table and yelled above the others.  “That better be a joke, Bairaz!  If you killed him-”

 _“You’ll find me, tear me apart, blah, blah, blah,”_ Bairaz taunted.   _“I know the drill.  I do have some - well, not good news - but maybe you’ll find some comfort from it.  Detective Williams requested that I allow him to record a message for you and his children - a goodbye - in case he didn’t make it.  And because I’m such a nice guy, I let him.”_

Another email, also sent from Danny’s phone, appeared on the screen.  Attached to it were two audio files, one labeled ‘Grace/Charlie’, and the other ‘Five-0.’  

_“There you go.  Consider it a parting gift, something to remember your dearly departed detective.  You should also take it as warning - a taste of what I will do if you try to come after me._

_“Until next time, Five-0!  It was a pleasure doing business with you.”_ With that, the call ended.

All members of the task force, past, present and honorary stood dumbfounded for several long minutes, all of them waiting for someone else to speak.

Finally, Kono couldn’t take it anymore.  “He - he was lying.  He had to be, right?”  She glared at each of them, challenging anyone to contradict her.  

It was Catherine who worked up the nerve.  “I think…”  She stopped to gather her courage and started again.  “He has no reason to lie.  It’s not part of his M.O.”

“Neither is _deliberately_ killing the victim before the exchange,” Steve shouted.  He stomped over to Catherine and loomed over her, his body shaking with fury.  “You said he’d let Danny go alive!  You said this would work!”

She hung her head.  “I don’t know what to tell you, Steve.”

“We waited too long!  If you’d have given us the information earlier-”

“We don’t know what would have happened,” Chin reasoned.  He stepped between them and pushed Steve back.  “There must be some reason Bairaz…”  He couldn’t finish the thought.

The group grew quiet again, dazed and unsure of themselves.  After a minute or two, Jerry grunted to get everyone’s attention.  “Hey, um… Should we listen to the - ah…”  he pointed to the email blinking on the screen.

No one voiced an opinion either way.  Hope and terror was warring on each of their faces.  No one was ready to hear a goodbye from their beloved teammate, if that’s truly what the media files contained, none more so than Steve.  He didn’t know if he could bear it.

Catherine shuffled in place.  “I - I know it’s not my call to make, but I think we should listen to it.  For all we know, there may be something there that could help us figure out where Bairaz was keeping him.  Danny could have dropped some hints.”

As much as Steve hated to admit it, that was a compelling argument, and delaying the inevitable wouldn’t make it any easier.  He swallowed heavily.  “Play it.”

He didn’t need to specify; Jerry saved both audio files to their shared drive and clicked on the one designated for them.

The recording began with a couple of seconds of silence, followed by a few random noises that could have been any number of things.  

Then the voice they knew as Bairaz spoke.  _“Oh, this should be good.  Really, Detective, that message to your kids was just too sweet!  I think I might make_ **_everyone_ ** _do this from now on - give me something to laugh at when I’m bored.”_

Danny’s voice came on, hoarse but obstinate.   _“Shut up, you-”_  He let out a string of expletives that made everyone smile a little, then blush.

Once that was out of his system, Danny coughed a few times and lowered his voice.

_“This message is for Five-0, special task force for the state of Hawaii.  Steve, Chin, Kono, Jerry, Abby, Lou, Max - I hope you never have to hear this, but in the event of my death, I wanted to leave something behind, something for you to remember me by.  I know this might seem shitty, but - I didn’t want to leave you with any doubts about how much you’ve meant to me._

_“I wish I had the time to tell each of you individually all the ways you’ve touched me, how it was you who made this god-forsaken sandbox feel like home, or how working with you - being a part of Five-0 - has been one of the greatest experiences of my life.  I always thought I understood what it means to be a family, but you guys taught me what it means to be_ **_Ohana_ ** _, which - in many ways - is so much deeper.  And if I die, I die as a better man for having known all of you.  You’re all a part of me, just as I will always be a part of you.  I love you.”_

 _“Oh, how very touching,”_ Bairaz drawled.  

A pause - Steve imagined that his partner was giving the mercenary his best death glare.

Danny continued, _“Guys, I hope you don’t mind if I address my partner now; I would prepare a grand speech for each of you, but I don’t - I don’t have much strength left.  I hope you’ll understand that there are I things I HAVE to say to him.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you too, ‘kay?_

 _“Steve, I - uh…”_   There was a long sigh. _"You know, now that it comes to it, I’m honestly not sure what to say – which is really kind of a first for me.  I mean, you know me, right?  Hahaha… I guess – uh – it’s not so much that I don’t know what to say, it’s just - I don’t - know how to express how much you_ _mean to me.”_  He let out another little laugh.   _“You may be an obnoxious, arrogant, stubborn jerk at times, but you are also the best partner, and the best friend, that I’ve ever had.  You’ve been there for me, through thick and thin.  You always had my back, and you put up with my shit through all these years.  I’ve never really told you how grateful I am, or that - that I’ve never done anything to deserve to have someone like you in my life.”_

There was a pause, and when he spoke again, there was a break in his voice, as though he were holding back tears.  _“And - and regardless of what you might be thinking right now, aside from my kids, you are, by far, the BEST thing that ever happened to me.  Whatever I might have said when I was frustrated or angry, I want you to know that I love you.  I love you_ **_so_ ** _much, Steven.  No matter what happens, don’t you ever forget that._

_“I’m counting on the rest of you to watch his back for me, okay?  I know you always have and you always will, but you’re gonna have to step it up once I’m gone.  You’re gonna have to be the voice of reason in all of his schemes, because god knows he doesn’t have a shred of it himself.  Don’t let him do anything stupid, and if he does – which I know he will – make sure you kick his ass twice as hard for me.  You know, come to think of it, if you happen to find my body in time to salvage anything, you might want to put my organs on ice.  McGarrett will probably need them someday.”_

Danny coughed once, perhaps to cover up a whimper, and when he spoke again, his voice was firm and strong.  _“Just - one more thing.  I want you all  - but especially you, Steven - to know that this isn’t your fault, okay?  If you’re listening to this because I didn’t make it, it’s not because you failed.  It’s because this guy, Bairaz, he’s the scum of the earth, and I just drew the short straw on his list of potential victims.  I don’t want you beating yourself up over this.  I know you did your best to find me, and I know that whatever choices you had to make throughout this whole situation were not done lightly, that they were the right ones.”_

 _“This - is - not -  your - fault.”_ He emphasized each word, giving them as much weight as he could to ensure that they would sink in.  “ _Ahem.  Anyway, I guess - stick close to each other and try to move on, okay?  I don’t want you guys moping around the office, or flying off the handle and blowing up the island.  Keep an eye on my kids for me, turn my office into a shrine, and - oh!  Do NOT use the word ‘curmudgeon’ anywhere in my eulogy, and don’t you dare engrave it on my headstone, or I will find a way to come back and haunt you._

_“Um, okay.  I think that’s it.  I love you all._

_“Goodbye.”_

The recording ended.

No one said a word.  Every one of them were wrapped up in their own reflections, shoulders hunched and trying not to cry.

Steve straightened, spun around, and headed for the exit.

“Boss?” Kono called.

He stopped but didn’t turn around.  “Go home.  All of you, take tomorrow off and get some rest.”

“Steve, I…” whispered Catherine.

“We’ll wait for confirmation that he’s…” Steve couldn’t say it.  He balled his hands into fists.  “And then, we’ll hunt down this son-of-a-bitch, and anyone else working under the name ‘Bairaz’ and make them pay for this.”

Steve remembered walking out of the building, ignoring the distressed cries of his teammates.  He remembered getting into his truck and turning on the engine.  But it was all a blur after that.

The next thing he knew, he was at Diamond Head Lookout, his Silverado had been parked, and he was standing before the wall, his palms resting on the spot where Danny always sat.

He blinked, and an HPD squad car materialized behind him.  Sergeant Duke Lukela was at his side.

“Commander McGarrett - I got a call about a disturbance up here.  Is everything alright?”

Steve’s face was wet and hot.  His knuckles were torn open, and drops of blood stained the wall.  His throat hurt.

He had been screaming.


	7. Revival

Steve did not go home that night.  After Lukela had calmed him down, he returned to the office.

He plugged in his cell phone to charge, and it beeped to life.  There were missed calls, voicemails and text messages from the team, asking him where he was, but they knew better than to offer empty words of condolences.  

The ones that upset him the most were from Rachel, Eric and Gracie.  Rachel had left him a voicemail saying that there had been a series of storms in London, delaying flights.  Even were it not so, most of those headed back to the U.S. were full, but she and Stan had been added to the top of the waiting list for cancellations.  Unless one came in, they wouldn’t be back until the weekend.  Were the kids okay, and - oh yeah - did he find Danny?

Steve deleted the message.

Eric wanted an update.  He had been doing a great job caring for his cousins.  He had snuck back into Danny’s house at some point to grab clothes for Grace and Charlie.  He took them shopping for food, made sure they ate, got them back and forth to school, and assured them that he’d tell them the second he knew anything about their dad.  But Gracie knew that something was wrong, and Eric didn’t know how much longer he could keep his mouth shut about the abduction.

Gracie’s message was like a knife to the chest.  Where was Danno, Uncle Steve?  Was he okay?  Why wouldn’t Eric tell them anything?  She wasn’t a kid anymore, Uncle Steve - if something had happened to her father, she needed to know.

Steve erased the voicemails and swallowed the bile that threatened to come up.  

It would be up to him.  The Williams children deserved to hear it from him.  He would have to be the one to look them in the eyes and explain that their daddy was dead - because Steve couldn’t save him.

But not yet - not until Rachel and Stan were back to support them, and not until they had a body to bury.  Maybe it was cruel, but he wanted to let them have hope for just a little while longer.

Steve left his phone to charge and curled up on the couch in his office.  He didn’t sleep much, and the few precious minutes he did, he dreamed of wild boars, broken shields, and Danny's bloody corpse.

* * *

 The next morning found Steve hesitating at the threshold of the Noshimuri-Kalakaua household, once more debating if this was too soon to pursue this.  But at last, his curiosity got the better of him, and he knocked three times.

Adam answered the door, appearing unsurprised to see his wife’s boss.  He forced a small smile and nodded once to the unspoken question, stepping back to allow Steve entry.

“Adam,” Steve greeted, offering a hand.

“McGarrett,” he answered.  After they shook, Adam waved him into the living area.  “Kono saw you pull up and went to change her clothes.  She’ll be back in a minute.”

Steve shoved his fists into his cargo’s pockets.  “Thanks.”

Adam rubbed the back of his neck.  “Ah, I was going to ask how you’re doing, but I know that’s a stupid question, especially when I can clearly see the answer.”  He took in Steve’s general state of disarray.  “Would you like something to drink?  Water, coffee…”

Steve rubbed a hand across his turbulent stomach.  “Um, if you have any tea or something, that’d be great.”

Adam smiled with more sincerity, strangely pleased by the request.  “You got it.”  He headed for the kitchen.  “Make yourself at home.  I’ll have it ready in a few minutes.”

Steve called out his gratitude, but he did not sit down yet.

He ambled around the room and looked at the photographs hanging on the walls.  Most of them were pictures of the couple - their wedding, honeymoon, etc. - and their extended families, but there was also a nice collage featuring Five-0.

Steve’s gaze was instantly drawn to two side-by-side pictures of Danny.  In the first, the top half of his head was sticking out the water; he was glaring at the camera, and a surfboard bobbed along beside him.  In the second, he was surfing a half-pipe.  

For all his grumblings about beaches, oceans and certain wave hogs, he was (had been) an excellent surfer, due in large part to Kono’s patient tutelage.  She had been so proud of him the first time he managed to stay up on a board, and had cataloged his progress with these before and after photos.

“Steve.”

Kono looked as miserable as he felt.  Her nose was red, and her eyes were puffy, but she put on a brave face and held out her arms.

He walked over and hugged her.  “Hey.  How are you doing?”

She laughed bitterly, and he felt her shrug.

Adam walked in behind her, carrying two cups of tea.  “Here you go.”  He set them on the coffee table.  

Kono pulled back from Steve and smiled at her husband.  “Thanks, baby.”

“You’re welcome.  Um, you guys want me to stay or do you want to talk alone for a bit?”

“Ah - do you mind giving us a little while?” Steve requested.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like Adam or wasn’t comfortable with him; it was just that this was a private matter that didn’t really concern him.

“Okay.  I need to run to the store anyway.”  He grabbed his keys from a bowl on the coffee table and kissed Kono on the cheek.  “Text me if you need anything?”

“Sure.”

Once he’d gone, the two of them sat down and sipped at their tea, neither sure what to say at first.

Finally, Steve decided to get right to the point.  “Kono,” he started, “I came by because there’s something I need to ask you – about Danny.”

“For the case?” she asked.  It was a given that Five-0 would not be waiting around for the C.I.A. to do something.  Danny was _Ohana_ ; if anyone was going to find his killer, it would be them.

Steve shook his head.  “No.  Well, I don’t think so anyway.  It’s about…”  He looked away to reconsider how to phrase his inquiry.  “It’s about something I overhead the two of you discussing in his office, last week?”  He articulated the last phrase as a question to jog her memory.

Evidently, she understood which conversation he was referring to, because her eyes widened and her jaw tightened.  “O-okay.  What about it?”

He was prepared for some evasiveness, so her fake nonchalance came as no surprise.  “Come on, Kono.  I think you know.”  He gave her the look that Danny had always referred to as his ‘thousand-yard-stare.’  “He was keeping something from me.  We were - he was going to tell me...”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze.  She shut her eyes, her bottom lip trembling.  “What does it matter now?  It’s nothing that would have saved him.”

“I assumed as much, or you would have said something,” he said, a warning implied by his tone.  “But, I still want to know what it is…”  His voice dropped to a whisper, and he swallowed a cry.  “… was,” he corrected.

Kono bit her lip and shook her head back and forth, her limp hair whipping across her face.  “No, Steve.  I can’t.  It’s not my secret to tell.”

“Yeah, well, Danny’s in no position to talk about it anymore, is he?” Steve snapped, a surge of anger overriding his sorrow.  “So the only person left who knows about it is you.”

She sniffled and snatched a few tissues from the box on the coffee table.  She used one to blow her nose and another to dab at her eyes.  “Steve, I don’t think he wants you to know.”

“Oh yeah?  How can you be sure of that?” he nearly shouted.

“Because he would have told you himself in the recording!” she cried.  She drew a shaky breath.  “He - he had a lot of time to think about his last words.  I think, I believe he said everything he wanted to say in his goodbye.  That other thing – he must have decided you’d be better off not knowing.  A-and I think I agree with him.”

Steve jumped to his feet and stomped a few paces away from her.  “Why the hell would I be better off?  Who the fuck does Danny think he is to decide that for me?”

“He was your friend!” Kono hollered, likewise standing.  “Your BEST friend, who sure as shit knew you’d blame yourself for what happened, that you’d torture yourself with a thousand what-ifs!  He didn’t want to add to it!  And he was right; you can’t help but feel guilty about his death!”  Her roar crumbled to a whisper.  “It’s the same for all of us.”

“Kono?”

She collapsed back onto the couch and buried her head in her hands.  “I - I should have called him!” she wailed.  “I wanted to; I knew what he was planning that day.  I remember – I wanted to call and wish him good luck.  But I got distracted and I…  I-if I had checked in, maybe we could have found him before Bairaz took him away!  Maybe we could have tracked his phone before that monster scrambled it.  Maybe…”

“Oh no.  No, Kono, don’t!”  Steve’s anger evaporated.  He returned to her side and gathered her into his arms.  She clung to him and hid her face against his chest, bawling without restraint.  

“Don’t,” he repeated, blinking back tears of his own.  “It’s not your fault.”

“N-not yours either,” Kono said.

Steve could argue that.  He was certain that he could build an airtight case that would stand in a court of law regarding all the ways that he’d fucked up this whole scenario, how Danny’s blood was on his hands as much as on Bairaz’s.

_“…I want you all - but especially you, Steven - to know that this isn’t your fault, okay?”_

_‘You’re wrong,’_ Steve thought.

* * *

One day off was hardly sufficient time off for an event of this magnitude, but no one complained.  It seemed that Steve wasn’t the only one keen to use work as a distraction.

After he’d left Kono’s, he finally went home to eat, shower and sleep.  He sat Eric down and informed him that they believed Danny was dead, but they wouldn’t know for sure until someone found the body (which he thought should have happened by now).  Steve held him while he cried, and afterwards explained that they would wait for confirmation before telling Grace and Charlie.

Keeping it together around those two had to be the most difficult thing he’d ever done; he thought he deserved an academy award for his poker face.  He told them that the police were still looking for Danno and wouldn’t give up until they found him, but that he had needed to come home for a short rest.  He didn’t think Grace bought it, but she didn’t say anything.

Sometime in the middle of the night, she and Charlie woke him from a nightmare.  They didn’t ask about it, didn’t say anything of their own struggles to sleep.  They simply climbed into his bed - as though that was something they routinely did when they stayed with him - and snuggled on either side of him.

He cried for a long while after they’d fallen back asleep.

He dropped them off at school in the morning, swung by the governor’s office to give her an update (he been dodging her calls these past few days), and then went into work.

The mood around the office was utterly despondent, and no one tried to pretend otherwise, nor did any of them attempt to pry into Steve’s well-being.  There would be time for that later.  Right now, they had a mercenary to track down and torture, and the first step towards that goal would be to convince Catherine to disclose everything she’d held back about Bairaz.  

“Steve, I get it.  I’d like to murder this guy too.  But I don’t think the C.I.A. is going to let you in on this.  It was difficult enough to get the name of that lab tech.”

Steve scowled at her from behind his desk.  “Don’t give me that, Cath.  Your superiors might have been against it to begin with, but you can’t tell me they aren’t planning something now.  For once, they know who his next target is.  It’s the perfect opportunity to catch him.”

Catherine conceded that.  “Yes, but…”

“But what?”

She glanced down at her lap, then back up at him.  “The C.I.A. wants to take him alive.”

“What?!”

“I told you before that he’s not the only ‘Bairaz’.  Think of what we could learn from him!  If we flip him, we might be able to take down their whole organization.”

“That fucker does not deserve to live after what he did to Danny!”

“And that’s exactly why no one’s going to give you access to the rest of our files, or let Five-0 in on the mission to capture him.  Steve, I-”

Steve’s desk phone rang.  He wanted to hurl it across the room for interrupting them, but he pulled himself together and picked up the receiver.  “McGarrett.”

_“Good morning.  Is this… Commander Steven McGarrett?  Of Five-0?”_

“Yeah, that’s me,” Steve confirmed, a touch impatient.  He didn’t have time for more mystery callers.

_“My name is Valerie Hale.  I’m a doctor at Moloka’i General Hospital.  I’m calling because you are listed as the emergency contact for a Detective Daniel Williams.  Is that correct?”_

Straightaway, Steve stood at attention.  The hairs on the back of his neck rose with the horrific knowledge that this was the call he’d been expecting – a message from a medical examiner, the notification that Danny’s body had been found and identified as part of the autopsy process.

“Uh - yeah, that’s right.  Can you hold on for just one second?”

Steve wasn’t ready for this.  He wasn’t ready for this to be real, to see or hear the physical evidence of what had occurred, to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his partner, his Danno, his _everything_ – was really gone for good.  He couldn’t cope with that, not alone.  And he didn’t know if he would have the strength to repeat whatever the doctor needed to say to the rest of the team.

“Cath, get everyone else in here.”

She got up and poked her head out of the door to summon the rest of Five-0.  They stopped what they were doing and filed in, their expressions turning to stone as they anticipated what they were about to hear.

He lowered the receiver and touched the speaker button.  “Okay, Doctor, go ahead.”

_“Sir, I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but Detective Williams was found in one of the residential buildings of Kalaupapa National Park.  It appears that he had been severely beaten and stabbed, and his throat was slashed.”_

Kono’s form crumpled in anguish.  Chin collected her in his arms, lowering his head to rest on her shoulder.  Abby touched his arm, and Jerry moved to sit on the armrest of the couch.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying out.

Only Lou didn’t react in a likewise manner.  The space between his brows furrowed.  “Wait a minute,” he said.  “Doctor, you said they found _Detective Williams_ in that house, not Detective Williams’s _body_?”

If Valerie Hale was confused by the additional voice, she did not say so.   _"_ _Y_ _es, that is correct.”_

The group looked at one another in astonishment; Kono and Chin pulled back from each other.  Steve saw a spark of hope kindle in each of them, in their widened eyes and straightened spines, and he felt it rise in himself, though caution prevented it from overtaking him just yet.

It was Chin who finally asked the question that was on all of their minds.  “Then - Danny’s alive?”

_“Very badly wounded and in critical condition, but yes.  He is alive and stable.”_

“What?  Oh my god!” Kono brought a hand up to cover her nose and mouth in an attempt to muffle her excited squealing.  Lou whooped and clapped a hand on Jerry’s shoulder, who simply grinned and bowed his head in quiet joy.

Alive.  Danny was _alive_!  

Steve doubled over and released the long breath he had been holding ever since he’d been told of his partner’s supposed death.  He was a man of unbridled control over his emotions (or the ones he didn’t need in combat anyway), but the word _‘alive’_ reverberated in his head and ignited the initial spark into a full-fledged wild fire.  That fire burned away the cold, heavy grief that had taken up residence in his chest and stomach, making him giddy with relief.  He let out a short burst of hysterical laughter.

 _“Commander,”_ the doctor’s voice chimed in again, “ _We’ll need you to come to Moloka’i General as soon as you can so we can discuss this in further detail and decide on a treatment plan.  Also, if Detective Williams has any family in the area, they will need to be informed as well.”_

“Yeah, yeah.  Of course.  I’ll be on the next flight out.”

“We’re coming too!” Abby insisted.

“Yeah, _brah_ ,” Chin agreed.  

Lou nodded.  “Just need to let the wife know.  I’ve got a go-bag in my car.”

“Right,” said Steve.  “Doctor Hale, my team will be there as soon as we can.  I’ll call Danny’s family and give them an update.”

_“Very good.  As of right now, Kaunakakai police are investigating this as an attempted murder.  I will put in a call to the head detective on the case.  He can arrange transportation to the hospital from the airport and fill you in on the proceedings so far.”_

“Okay.  Thank you so much, doc.”

Steve hung up, and the room exploded into shrieks of joy.

* * *

The first thing Steve did was give Eric the good news.  He wanted to go with them to Moloka’i of course, but Steve ordered him to stay and wait for Grace and Charlie to get done with school.  Steve would call them again once he’d seen Danny and spoken to his doctor in person.

The next commercial flight to Moloka’i Island was too long of a wait for the anxious members of Five-0, so Steve put in a call to Mahoe and requested a private charter plane.  Upon landing, they were met by a Detective Palakiki and his partner, Detective Usui, of the Kaunakakai Police Department.  They understood that Five-0 was impatient to see their comrade and thankfully, did not waste too much time with introductions.

“I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” Palakiki said.  He spoke as he escorted them to their vehicles.  “My partner and I have been assigned to Detective Williams’s case.  And I apologize that you weren’t informed of his condition right away.  As you can imagine, saving his life was the first priority.  He was rushed to the ER, and it was a while before we were able to collect his clothes or anything else from his body for evidence and identification.”

“We know you’ll want to see your man first,” Detective Usui added, “so stop number one will be the hospital.  Later, when you’re ready, we can go over the evidence with you.”

Five-0 was used to visiting one another in hospitals.  It was a regrettable side effect of their jobs, and there had been more than one close call on their records.  But repetition did not make it easier to bear, and nothing could have prepared them for this.

Danny had been placed in one of the tiny ICU rooms; it was really only big enough for one or two visitors and an attending physician, but that didn’t stop the entire team from attempting to crowd in.  All of them wanted to see him, to touch him, and confirm that this wasn’t a figment of their grief-stricken, bone-weary imaginations.

Were it not for the steady beat of the heart monitor, they would not have known him for a living person.  There were deep, dark bruises along his jaw, and his right eye was swollen from one particularly nasty shiner.  More contusions could be seen along his right shoulder, peeking out of the hospital gown.  The rest of his skin was startlingly pale and colorless, almost as white as the sheets on which he lay.

Butterfly strips covered minor cuts on his face and arms, while surgical stitches took care of deeper wounds (only a few were visible; Steve guessed that many more lay beneath the hospital gown).  Both of his hands were wrapped in fresh bandages, and a gauze patch had been lightly tapped over the stitches on his throat.

Doctor Hale was standing by the bed, checking Danny’s vitals.  She gave them a moment to take it all in, and then explained, “As I’m sure you can see from his pallor, Detective Williams lost a lot of blood, and will require several more transfusions over the next day or so.”

“Doctor, he and I share the same blood type.  If you need any, please allow me to donate,” Steve urged.  It wasn’t much - and hardly equivalent to the liver that Danny had given him, but at least it might make him feel that he was doing something to help his partner.

Hale made a note on Danny’s chart and smiled.  “Duly noted.  Anyway, Detective Williams suffered violent beatings, multiple lacerations across his body, and approximately eighteen stab wounds.  He was also strangled and slashed in the throat.”

“How did he survive all that?” wondered Abby.

The doctor adjusted her glasses.  “The stab wounds, though serious, had been inflicted in such a way as to avoid any vital organs or major arteries.  And based on the evidence collected from his body when he was brought in, it would appear that his captor provided basic first aid to each injury after he inflicted them.  Doing so prevented him from bleeding to death.”

“To prolong the torture,” Catherine murmured.

“As for the neck wound, it was remarkably superficial.  From what Detective Usui has told me, Kaunakakai officers ambushed the suspect at the scene of the crime.  He attempted to kill his victim before fleeing, but it was done so quickly, he didn’t actually penetrate the jugular vein or carotid artery.  The attempted strangulation did more damage than the knife wound.”

“What’s his prognosis?”  Chin inquired.

She glanced at the red bag that was gradually pumping blood into Danny’s body.  “Well, as I said before, he’ll need a few more transfusions.  Our biggest worry is the potential for an infection to develop from his injuries.  We’ve got him on antibiotics, and he’ll need to be closely monitored.  It will be a slow process for his wounds to completely heal.  Eventually, he’ll need physical therapy, medication, and - under the circumstances - I highly recommend counseling to deal with any psychological trauma.  But barring any unforeseen complications, he has an excellent chance of making a full recovery.”

Lou sighed and nodded.  “That’s a relief to hear.”

Doctor Hale looked at her watch.  “I understand that this is difficult and that you want to be here with your friend, but I must ask you to leave.  There’s nothing you can do for him right now.  He needs rest, and my staff must tend to him.  We’ll continue to track his progress.  If there are no issues overnight, we’ll step him down from the ICU to a regular room in the morning.  You’ll be able to stay with him longer then.”

Steve wasn’t happy about being kicked out so soon, but Doctor Hale didn’t look like the type of person who would be intimidated by a Navy SEAL.

She studied the group’s collective state of fatigue and smiled wryly.  “Might I suggest you all get some rest as well?  I will, of course, notify you if there are any developments.  We’ve been keeping him sedated, but we’re going to start easing back on it tonight, which means he’ll probably regain consciousness tomorrow.  We’ll let you know when he does.”

She maneuvered around the group and into the hall.  “You may have a few more minutes, but you will need to vacate when the nurse comes through to apply his next dose of medication.”

They thanked her profusely and promised to comply with her orders.  

The group filed out, and then took turns going back in one at a time.  Steve watched through the window as Kono tearfully kissed his cheek, and Chin bent over to press his forehead to Danny’s.  Abby and Catherine each held one of his hands, and Jerry and Lou just stood at his bedside in quiet observation.

When it was Steve’s turn, his friends made themselves scarce.

He stood at the end of the bed for what felt like hours, but it was probably only a minute or two.  He could scarcely believe his eyes, and didn’t know what to do with himself.  He wanted to laugh and cry and shout all at once.  He wanted to hug Danny and never let go, but at the same time, he didn’t dare touch him for fear that he’d wake and find out that this was all a dream.

In the end, he copied what the others had done.  He moved to the side of the bed, took Danny’s hand in his, touched their foreheads together and kissed the corner of his undamaged eye.

Finally, at the attending nurse’s insistence, he crept out of the room.

* * *

Steve shouldn’t have had that second omelet this morning.  He was still playing catch-up with eating, as were his teammates, and they’d all indulged in second and third helpings of their hotel’s continental breakfast.

But when Five-0 was shown into a conference room at the Kaunakakai Police Department, where Detectives Palakiki and Usui had set up for the Williams case, one glance at the photo spread on the bulletin board and the bags of bloody evidence on the table made all of that protein churn in his gut.

Most of the pictures were a sickening visual catalogue of all of Danny’s injuries, taken after treatment while he was unconscious: small cuts and dark bruises everywhere on his body, the deep lacerations and stab wounds that had needed stitches, and - worst of all - a boar’s head carved onto his left shoulder, forever marking him as a victim of Bairaz.

“I assume your task force will want to take over the investigation,” Palakiki said, entering behind them. “We can have all of this packed and shipped to the main island this afternoon, but I thought we’d give you an overview of what we have first.”

“Yes, we’d appreciate that,” said Chin.

Detective Usui pointed to the first picture on the top left corner of the board.  “This here is a 1930’s residential building in Kalaupapa National Park.  Restoration is due to begin there later this year, but for the time being, it stands abandoned.  Around eight o’clock on Tuesday evening, one of the park rangers was making his rounds of the area and noticed a dim light shining in a broken window.  Naturally, he went to investigate and saw a man wearing a mask, asleep on an old couch, and another - later identified as Detective Williams - tied to a chair that had been tipped over.  The masked man had a knife in his hand, and the ranger was unarmed, so he retreated to call the police.

“When officers arrived on the scene, they entered and found the two men engaged in a struggle.”

Palakiki picked up two bags - one containing a large shard of broken glass and the other a length of torn, heavy-duty rope.  “Take a look at pictures nine and ten.  Those show a number of small nicks and bruises on Detective Williams’s right arm and some deeper lacerations on his hand.  We believe that whenever the chair fell over - don’t know if it was deliberate or accidental - Williams had managed to grab a piece of the window glass,” he held up the bloody shard, “and used it to cut himself free.  The suspect woke up, and the two of them began to fight just as officers were pulling up.  The perp used his knife to slash Williams in the neck, and then fled the scene through a back exit.”

“That must have been the ‘hiccup’ Bairaz mentioned,” Catherine guessed.  “This is an isolated location; he probably wasn’t expecting anyone to find them there.  So when the police arrived, he tried to slit Danny’s throat before escaping, but he panicked and couldn’t quite manage it.  He just assumed that he had succeeded.”

 _‘Thank goodness for small miracles,’_ Steve thought.

“The officers would have pursued, but they made a judgment call to focus their efforts on stabilizing Williams until EMTs arrived.”

“Something which we are very grateful for,” Abby said.

“He was taken to Moloka’i General Hospital for treatment and admitted as a John Doe until we could identify him,” said Usui.  “We did find his badge at the scene, but we didn’t want to assume it was linked to our victim until we could run his DNA and fingerprints.”  He picked out another bag and offered it to Steve.  Inside was Danny’s Five-0 badge.   

Steve ran his fingers along the letters, now caked in dried blood.  He stifled a gag and passed it to Lou.

Detective Palakiki reiterated, “Our crime lab has a few more boxes of evidence; they are processing everything as we speak.  Once they’ve completed their analyses, we’ll forward them on to you, along with our reports and Doctor Hale’s medical evaluation of Detective Williams.”

“Detectives, we are eternally grateful for all the hard work you’ve done,” said Lou.  

“And we can’t thank your officers enough for saving our friend,” Chin added.

“Just doing our jobs,” said Usui, beaming at the praise.  “Please let us know if you require any further assistance.”

Steve’s cell rang.  “Excuse me a moment.”  He stepped around the detectives as they shook hands with his team, and out into the station bullpen.  “McGarrett.”

_“Yo, Steve.  It’s Eric.  The kids and I just got to the hospital.”_

“What?”  Steve found a corner and lowered his voice.  “You’re on the island?  And you brought Grace and Charlie with you?”

_“Well, yeah!  I had to tell them their dad was okay, and they wanted to see him.  What was I supposed to do, say ‘no’?  They’ve been worried sick.”_

“I know that,” Steve said.  “But Eric, he’s not awake yet, and he looks awful.  I don’t think Danny would want his children to see him like this.”

_“I figured that, but I was outvoted.  And Grace may have punched me.  Besides, Uncle D’s starting to wake up.  His doc is gonna let us go in pretty soon.”_

Steve’s eyes widened with excitement.  “Okay.  I’ll be there in a bit.”

He hurried back to the conference room.  “Hey.  Danny’s coming around.”

Everyone’s faces lit up.  “Well, what are we waiting for?” said Kono.  “Let’s go!”  

* * *

“You think maybe we overdid it a little?” Jerry asked.

Abby forced a third and then a fourth bouquet of flowers into his already full hands.  “Nonsense.  A hospital room can never have too many flowers.”

When it came to Danny and near-death experiences, Steve was inclined to agree.

“I think we might have cleared out that sweet old lady’s entire “Get Well’ section,” Catherine said, her arms likewise burdened with flower pots.  “Hey, you guys almost done with the balloons?”

Chin, Lou and Kono stood at the back of their rented SUV; they were working in tandem to prepare a bunch of mylar balloons to go with the flowers.  Lou was using a small helium tank to inflate them, and Chin tied them off with string before handing them to Kono.

“Just about.  Did everyone finish filling out their cards?” she called.

Steve was having difficulty with his.  Just what on earth was he supposed to write?  Danny wasn’t a huge card guy, although he appreciated the brevity of their simple, pre-printed messages.  But relying on a greeting card company to express his sentiments felt like a cop out, and he couldn’t seem to find the words within himself to adequately say all that needed to be said.

In the end, Steve merely signed his name and sealed the card in an envelope.  He clipped it to an arrangement of lisianthus, zinnias and red roses.  He had also employed his secret balloon art skills to make him a giraffe, which was taped to a short white stalk that stuck up out of the middle of the flowers.

“Okay,” said Lou. “We’re done.”

The front desk receptionist was expecting them, and directed the group to the west wing of standard rooms.  As Doctor Hale had predicted, Danny had been deemed stable enough to be relocated to a room capable for receiving more visitors.

The team bumped into Eric along the way, getting a soda from a vending machine.  He grinned when he say them coming, and his eyes bugged out when he saw Five-0’s purchases.  

He snapped his fingers.  “Aww, dude - flowers!  Why didn’t I think of that?”  He smacked himself on the forehead, but his toothy smile was back in full force.

“How is he?” inquired Chin.

“In and out of it.  He was awake a minute ago before I came out here, but who knows?  Oh!  But get this - the doctor told me the funniest thing.  I guess his throat is super inflamed or something, so she said he’s not allowed to talk for a couple of days.  How ironic is that?  It’s gonna drive him nuts.”

Steve recalled the picture of Danny’s neck (now tucked away in the case file in his luggage bag), and the hand-shaped bruises around it.

He glowered and shoved past the oblivious Russo.

“Was it something I said?” he called after them.

Steve led the team down the corridor and all the way up to the door, but he stopped just short of opening it.

“Steve?”  Lou nudged him.  “Is something wrong?”

“N-no, I-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes!”  Kono shoved him out of the way and kicked the door open.  The others followed after her, giving him questioning looks as they circled around him.

Steve inhaled, counted to three, blew out, and went in after them.

“-We’re so happy to see you awake,” Kono was cheering.  The others expressed identical sentiments as they arranged their presents on the window sill, a side table, and - when they ran out of room - on the floor against the wall.  

Steve remained in the background, holding onto his meager gifts, eyes glued to the floor.

“ _Brah_ , don’t you ever disappear on us again,” he heard Chin say.

“Agreed,” said Abby.

Soft steps, then Catherine spoke.  “Danny, I am SO sorry this happened to you.  If I’d have told Steve about Bairaz sooner, you might not have been taken.”

Steve unstuck his gaze from the ground, surprised by her apology.  

Catherine stood at Danny’s bedside, blocking Steve’s view of him.  It hadn’t crossed his mind that she might hold herself responsible for Danny’s plight, even though Steve had to some degree.  But whatever anger he’d had for her or anyone else (save Bairaz) had been redirected towards himself.  

“I’m sorry, what are you - oh.  You want something to write with?”  Catherine said.

“I got a pen and a pad here somewhere,” Lou offered.  He fished the objects out of his shirt pocket and passed them to Danny.

The team pressed in close, fully surrounding the bed, and watched Danny slowly write something.

“Sketch artist?” Catherine read.  She gasped.  “Are you - Danny, did you see Bairaz without his mask on?”

He must have nodded, because she exclaimed, “Oh my god!  No one’s EVER seen his face and lived to tell about it!  Do you know what this means?  We’ll be closer to catching this guy than we have in years.  This could blow the whole case wide open, not to mention help us catch the bastard that did this to you.”

“Always a cop, right Danny?” said Chin, a smile in his voice.

“I know you need to rest, so how would you feel about sitting with an artist tomorrow?  I can contact the Kaunakakai Police Department and see if they have anyone they can send.”

“Uncle Steve?”

Steve looked over his shoulder.  Grace and Charlie were standing in the doorway, holding hands.  Eric was behind them.

“Here, let me get that for you,” said Eric.  He relieved Steve of his flowers, balloon animal and card, and took them over to the bed.

Gracie let go of Charlie’s hand and stepped forward until she was standing right in front of Steve.  Then she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.

The team gasped, and Charlie tattled, “Danno!  Gracie hit Uncle Steve!”

Steve staggered back, hand automatically flying to touch his smarting cheek.  “Ow!  Gracie, what was that for?”

“For lying to me about what was happening to my daddy!  All week, you said he was missing, but you knew he’d been taken.  You knew he was being hurt!” she accused, tears welling in her eyes.

All eyes turned to Eric.

“Ah - sorry, bro.  I kinda threw you under the bus.  She threatened to beat me up.”

Steve scowled at him, and then sighed.  “I’m sorry, Gracie.  I was just trying to protect you.  I didn’t think you could handle knowing, and I thought - I thought Danno would agree.”

“It’s not up to either of you to decide what I can and cannot handle!” she shouted.  “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

Grace whipped her head back and forth.  Then she sprang forward and threw her arms around his waist.  

“Gracie?”

She sniffed into his shirt.  “Thank you for finding him, Uncle Steve.”

Not wanting to be left out, Charlie ran over and hugged his leg.

Steve put an arm around Grace and his other hand atop Charlie’s head.  He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to hold in another vital truth.

He hadn’t been the one to find Danny.  In fact, he had done nothing but cause him pain.  He didn’t deserve their love or their thanks.

As soon as they let go of him to sit with their father, he wordlessly fled the room.

* * *

Steve studied the photo of Danny’s hand, committing each tiny cut and the long gash across the palm to memory.  He kept looking at it until he could close his eyes and recall every detail.

That done, he flipped to a picture of Danny’s upper back, where Bairaz’s knife had penetrated his left trapezius.  After that was another stab wound, this one near his right oblique, and then a long jagged slash around his bad knee.  On and on it went, until he’d reached the last one - the boar on his shoulder.

All of the slashing wounds would scab over and leave scars, but this would be the worst.  It would never allow Danny to forget Bairaz.  He would have to see that every time he looked in the mirror, be reminded of the torment he’d endured whenever he took off his shirt.

If Danny hadn’t already had PTSD, this would surely do it.

_Beep.  Click._

Lou strolled in, pocketing his hotel key card.  “You know, if you were gonna take off, you could have called a cab and left the rental at the hospital for us.”

“Sorry,” Steve said, though he really wasn’t.

Lou eased himself into one of the chairs and kicked his legs up on the ottoman.  “Why are you doing this to yourself, man?” he asked.  He gestured at the pictures spread out across the comforter of the king-sized bed, where Steve sat cross-legged.  “There’s nothing in those pictures that will tell you where Bairaz is.  The only thing you’re doing is torturing yourself.”

“That’s the point,” admitted Steve.  “It means I won’t forget.”

“Forget what?”

Steve dropped the boar picture.  “That none of this would have happened to Danny if I hadn’t been such a jerk.  If I had been honest with him weeks ago, if I hadn’t pushed him away and gotten into a fight with him, he might not have been vulnerable to Bairaz’s attack.  Hell, I might have been with him.  I could have stopped him from being taken.”

“Might, maybe - doesn’t really do much good now,” said Lou.  “And I doubt it would have changed anything.  If Bairaz needed to get to you, nothing would have stopped him.”

“Are you saying that this was inevitable?” Steve asked.  That was a rather disconcerting thought.

“No, I’m saying that you should be grateful that your partner survived.”

“I am!” Steve roared.  “That’s why I need to memorize these - burn them into my mind so that I never forget how close I came to losing him.”

“Or, you could just go be with him and treasure your time together, instead of pouting in our hotel room.”

“I’m not pouting.”

Lou pointed a finger at him.  “You are.  I’m the father of two teenagers; I know what pouting looks like.  And all the while you’re in here beating yourself up, Danny’s wondering where you are, and if you’re okay.”

“He - he said that?”

“No, dumbass.”  Lou leaned to one side and pulled a crumpled ball of paper out of his pants pocket.  He tossed it on the bed.

Steve picked it up and unfolded it.  Written on it were short phrases; the handwriting was a little wonky, but unmistakably Danny’s.

_‘Where did Steve go?’_

_‘Is he hurt?’_

_'R U sure he’s alright?’_

Steve crushed it up again and shook his head with a bitter laugh.

“You need to get your shit together and go talk to him.  You know he’s not going to be able to rest if he’s too busy wondering what’s up with you.”

Steve unfolded his long legs and stood up.  Lou was right.  If Danny - sweet, self-sacrificing, worry-wart that he was - thought that something was wrong with Steve, he wouldn’t be concentrating on his own needs.

He couldn’t save his partner from Bairaz, but he would do his part to help him recover from the ordeal, assuming he _wanted_ Steve’s help, that is.

“Why are you still here?  Visiting hours will be over soon, and Danny made me promise to kick your ass if you were being stubborn.  But I’m too tired for that, so if you don’t go, I’ll get Kono in here.”  He considered.  “Or maybe Grace.”

Steve touched his cheek, smiling a little.  

“Go!”

* * *

How strange it was to think that only a few days ago, Steve would have given _anything_ to see those gorgeous eyes, so full of life and light, in the waking world again, and not merely in memories and speculations and fantasies.  He’d wanted to see the fire and fury in them when the two of them argued, or when the team took down deserving criminals.  He had missed the love and joy that filled them every time Danny saw his children, or the other members of Five-0 when they were happy and at peace.  He’d even remembered with some fondness the sorrow that sometimes filled their depths, because it was at least proof of life.

In the intervals between sleep and the nonstop motion of the case, he also wondered what Bairaz saw in them as he physically and psychologically tortured his partner.  Would he have recognized the fear in them, if Danny allowed it to bleed through?  Certainly Danny was strong, and he had taken beatings and injuries over the years, but no amount of training ever _eliminated_ fear; one could only be taught how to suppress it so that it wasn’t obvious - a lesson Steve had employed himself many times throughout his career.  

Did Bairaz know the moment Danny became resigned to his fate, unable to resist the shadow of impending death any longer, or hold out hope that he would be rescued?  Was that when the mercenary permitted Danny to record that good-bye message?

Did Danny weep, when he felt the walls of darkness closing in around him?

And then, of course, Steve’s ever traitorous mind and heart had conspired against him in the midst of his anguish, tormenting him with endless what-ifs.  How might those eyes have looked in the early hours of the morning, if they opened in response to his touch, unfocused but content in the haze of sleep?  What would it have been like to look up and see those eyes hovering over him, pupils blown wide with the heat of love and lust?  Or closed in ecstasy as Danny writhed beneath him?  

Now Steve had been blessed with a second chance, and he couldn’t find the courage to face those beautiful baby blues.  However much he deserved it, he feared seeing hate and blame reflected in them, or confirmation that the best part of his life was yet lost to him.

Then Lou’s words came back to him, reminding Steve that Danny had _asked_ for him, had wanted to see him because he was worried about him.

Perhaps the years of listening to his cynical friend imagine worse-case scenarios had finally rubbed off on him.

Steve took a shaky breath to brace himself.  Finally, he entered the room with slow, soundless strides and closed the door behind him.

Just as the nurse he'd spoken with predicted, Danny was awake and exerting his usual stubbornness.  The upper half of his bed was set at an incline so that he could sit up.  His arm was stretched out, reaching for a glass of ice water on the nearby tray table, but it was just out of range, forcing him to lean forward more than he should.

“Hey, hey!  What are you doing?”  Steve rushed over and picked up the glass before Danny could overextend himself.  “You shouldn’t move around too much.  If you need something, you’re supposed to call a nurse.”  He placed the glass as delicately as he could in Danny’s hands.  “And you yell at _me_ for not listening to the medical professionals.”

Danny threw him a half-hearted glare and took a sip through the straw.  

Steve stood at the end of the bed and leaned over to place his hands on the frame.  He drank in the sight of his partner.  

Danny looked much better already.  The color had returned to his skin, and the swelling around his right eye had begun to go down.  However, his movements were sluggish due to his wounds and the pain medication.  

Scattered across his lap were several colorful pictures of varying levels of skill.  On closer examination, Steve saw that they were signed by Grace, Charlie and, oddly enough, Eric.  A pad of paper and a box of crayons were left behind, within Danny’s reach.  The top page bore short sentences in Danny’s hand; he must have been using his children’s materials to communicate while he was restricted from speaking.

Danny finished drinking and reclined back against the mattress.  Steve took the glass and put it back on the table.  

After a minute, Danny picked up a blue crayon and wrote something on the pad.  He held it up for Steve to read.

_“R U OK?  You look like hell.”_

Steve chuckled and shook his head.  “Yeah, well - I could say the same for you, but the fact that you’re alive… Danny, I swear you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

_“Flattery will get u nowhere.  What’s wrong?”_

“What’s wrong?” Steve sputtered.  “ _What’s wrong?_  You mean other than the fact that you were abducted by an international criminal?  Or that we spent almost three days believing he’d _killed_ you?”

Danny raised a brow.  

Steve’s grip on the bed’s metal edge tightened until his knuckles turned white.  “Oh!  Or what about that message you recorded?  What the fuck, Danny?  Where do you get off making me listen to something like that?  Did you really think that was supposed to make me feel better?  That saying _‘it’s not your fault’_ would make it true?”

He straightened and walked over to the window, his back to his partner.  His fear and agitation had returned in full force, making it too difficult to look at him.

“God, Danny!  How could you say that it wasn’t my fault when we both know it was?  I should have been there!  I shouldn’t have blown you off!  Bairaz got to you and hurt you because I was acting like an asshole!  Fuck!”

Steve beat a fist against the wall next to the window; the other hand clawed through his hair.  “Danny, I almost lost you because I was too afraid to face myself, because I was a coward!  And you have the nerve to ask me what's wrong?”

He panted from the exertion of shouting at the top of his lungs.  It took a while for him to calm down from the tidal surge of self-loathing; in the interim, there was no noise from Danny to suggest he wanted to reply.  At length, Steve whispered, “What do we do now?  How are we supposed to come back from this?”

For a second, he forgot that Danny wasn’t supposed to speak, and grew somewhat alarmed at the lack of a heated rebuttal from the Jersey native.  Steve let out a heavy exhale and rotated to face him.

Danny was frowning at him, his trademark _‘you’re an idiot’_ expression fixed in place.  He flipped the page and scribbled, _“R u done?”_ in big letters.

Steve blinked owlishly.  “What?”

Danny rolled his eyes and cast the notebook away.  He held out his arms.

Steve continued to stand there in confusion.  “What?” he repeated.  “You need something?”

Danny patted the space next to him on the bed and motioned with his hands that he wanted Steve to come closer.

Steve wavered a few seconds more, but obeyed at Danny’s wordless urging.  He trudged over and took a seat on the edge of the bed.  

Danny spread out his arms again and waited.

“You want a hug?  Are you sure?  I don’t want to irritate any of your injuries.”

Danny wouldn’t relent, and Steve moved in carefully.  He slid his arms around Danny’s waist without applying any real pressure, but his friend wasn’t having that.  

Danny pulled him in tight with more strength than Steve would have guessed he possessed at this stage of recovery.  He slipped one arm under Steve’s to caress his upper back.  The other coaxed the SEAL to rest his head on his shoulder, and his hand stayed on the back of Steve’s neck to make sure he wouldn’t move.

For a moment, Steve remained tense in Danny’s embrace, his mind stuck in a loop of blame and fear and sorrow.  Then he inhaled, breathing in the scent of his partner’s skin - not exactly fresh (since the nurses hadn’t helped him take another full shower since he was first brought in), but that didn’t matter.  He felt the warmth of Danny’s body around and beneath him, the steady exhalation ghosting across his face, and the rhythmic pulse in Danny’s neck against his lips.

Only then did it become real.  The days of half-suppressed agony began to melt away in the revelation that Danny was alive - wounded, perhaps even broken, but truly _alive_ , and clinging to Steve as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

Steve sniffled once, twice.  On the third, the tears began to fall, and he choked on a sob.  He pressed closer, tightened his hold on the man he loved with all of his being, the man he thought he’d lost forever, and began to weep without restraint.

Danny stroked his back and let him cry.  “Shh.  It’s… okay… Steve,” he managed to whisper.


	8. Sweet Surrender

_A middle-aged man with thinning dark hair and a small pot belly whistled cheerfully as he went about his morning ritual.  The rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the kitchen, as did the sumptuous smell of toasting bread.  The toaster dinged and ejected its riches, and the man buttered a slice with a lazy flick of his wrist._

_Unbeknownst to him, he wasn’t alone in his cozy little cottage.  He lived in a small town, in a neighborhood where everyone felt safe enough to leave doors and windows unlocked.  Today, he would pay for that mistake._

_An intruder wearing black clothes and a rubber boar mask had eased open a bedroom window.  Being careful not to disturb the contents of the desk beneath it, he held onto the frame and lifted one leg through, then the other.  Inch by inch, he maneuvered his body inside to perch on the desk, and set his feet down onto the carpet, all without making a sound._

_He tiptoed to the bedroom door, turned the knob, and slowly pushed it outwards._

_He stuck his head out of the room and glanced both ways.  He saw nothing, but the whistling would guide him to his quarry.  He crept out into the hall, set his back to the wall, and side-shuffled towards the kitchen._

_The bedroom’s closet door slid open._

_The invader passed a bathroom and a living room on his way, but he didn’t bother to check them.  He’d only been watching this man for a few days, but he’d learned that he lived alone, and his daily routine was so predictable, one could set a watch to it.  His mission would not be disturbed._

_The shower curtain in the bathroom drew back, and the handle on the front door of the house clicked._

_At last, the trespasser found the kitchen.  The house’s sole occupant was seated at the table, happily sipping away at his coffee and reading the morning paper.  His back was to the intruder._

_This was all too easy._

_The man in the mask advanced and raised a knife._

_A gun clicked.  Something pressed against his skull._

_“Don’t move,” said a woman’s voice.  “Don’t you even breathe, or we’ll paint these walls with your blood.”_

_Bairaz’s eyes darted left and right.  Two men stood on either side of him, their guns aimed at his head.  Another appeared in front of him, his shotgun pointed at Bairaz’s chest._

_“Drop the knife and get on your knees,” the woman ordered._

_Bairaz did as he was told.  The knife clattered to the floor as he held up both hands in surrender and lowered himself to his knees.  The guy to his left holstered his pistol._

_Commander Aiden Jackson cuffed Bairaz’s hands behind his back, making sure to secure the links as tight and uncomfortable around his wrists as possible.  “Bairaz, you are under arrest,” he declared._

_A man in his twenties wearing a lab coat burst in.  “Dad, are you okay?” he asked the man at the table._

_Catherine turned around and looked up at the corner of the room.  She grinned and gave a thumb’s up to the hidden camera._

Steve pressed the escape key on his laptop to exit the video feed.  Then he swiveled his chair to one side and placed a hand on the shoulder of the man sitting next to him.

Staff Sergeant Ethan Meier smiled tearfully.  “Thank you,” he whispered.

* * *

“Yo, Danno!  You awake?”

Danny’s head appeared around a corner.  “In here,” he called, voice breaking a little from the effort.

Steve closed and locked the front door, and proceeded through the house to Danny’s bedroom, talking as he went.  

“The op went off without a hitch; Bairaz is in custody.  Your description was dead on, pal.  Cath sent me his mug shot.  I can’t believe we never noticed him following us around.  We’ve run into him a couple of times posing as different people.  An E.M.T., the nurse at the hospital who hit you with a cart - I think I might have even seen him walking a dog outside my house once.”  

He stopped in the doorway of Danny’s bedroom.  “Uh - mind telling me what you’re up to here?”

A large luggage bag was sitting open on the bed, and Danny was in the process of folding and packing clothes into it.

“What does it look like I'm up to, genius?”

“Based on the evidence, it looks like you’re going on a trip.  But you haven’t mentioned anything.”

Danny tossed a couple of ties on the pile.  “That’s why I asked you to come by today.  Come on - let’s talk in the living room.”

He reached for his old cane.  He hadn’t needed to use it in a few years, but his injuries were far from healed, and among them was his bad ACL.  He needed to be extremely careful about how he moved while the puncture wounds were mending.

Without hesitation, Steve hurried to Danny’s other side and put his arm around his shoulders to help him walk.

By the time they got to the living room, beads of sweat had surfaced on Danny’s forehead, and his skin was ashen.  “Did you remember to take your medication today?”

“It was next on my to-do list,” Danny muttered.

“I’ll go get it,” Steve offered.  He deposited his friend on the sofa and ran to get his prescriptions and a glass of water from the kitchen (which had been cleaned and set to rights before Danny had been released).

“You can’t skimp on these, Danno,” Steve chided.  “You’ve only been out of the hospital for a few days, and against your doctor’s advice.  If you’re going to insist on recovering at home, you need to follow his orders.”

“Yes, dear,” Danny grumbled, rolling his eyes.  He took his pills without protest, then said, “Stop with the aneurysm face.  I was stuck in a hospital bed for ten days, and I was going crazy from boredom.  The worst of the risks were over, and I can lay around just as well here as in a hospital, or anywhere else for that matter.”

“Not if you don’t actually rest,” Steve replied.  He plunked down next to him.  “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Danny let out a heavy sigh.  “You know I’m gonna be on medical leave for at least a month or two, maybe more...”

“Yeah?”

Danny folded his hands and twirled his thumbs.  “I thought I’d go visit my parents and sisters in Jersey.”

“Are you clear to fly?”

“It’s not recommended, but the doc says it should be okay as long as I take the proper precautions.  Steve…”  Danny closed his eyes.  “I just - I need to get out of here for a while.  I need to go somewhere I can clear my head.”

Steve barked out a sarcastic laugh.  “And you think you’ll be able to do that in a dirty, polluted city instead of here, with all this clear, Hawaiian air?”

“Don’t be an ass,” Danny snarked.  “You know what I mean.”

“I do.”  Steve leaned against the cushions and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.  “How long will you be gone?”

Danny lifted a shoulder.  “Not sure.  Couple of weeks?”

“ _Weeks_?  Weeks as in plural?” At Danny’s nod, he asked, “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“That soon?”

“Yep.”

They sat in quiet reflection for a moment.  

Steve nodded to himself.  “No time like the present,” he murmured.

“What’s that?”

Steve readjusted so that he was fully upright and facing his partner, one leg sliding up onto the couch.  He gulped under Danny’s penetrating stare.  “Danny, I…”

“What?” the detective asked again.

“I love you.”

Danny raised a brow.  “I love you too?”

Steve shook his head emphatically.  “No; what I mean is - I’m IN love with you.  Please, before you say anything, let me get this out.”

Danny’s mouth had fallen open, but he closed it at Steve’s request.

Steve did not give in to the temptation to avoid looking into those blue eyes.  He took a deep breath. “Danny, our partnership is one of the most important things in my life. So much so, that I didn’t want to jeopardize it by telling you how I really felt.

“I’ve been in love with you for years.  And yeah, I loved Catherine too, for a time, but no matter what happens or who I end up with, there isn’t a future I can picture having without you in it somehow.”

Feeling bold, he took Danny’s hand, his thumb brushing back and forth over the scabs on his knuckles.  “I almost lost you, Danno.  And telling you all this - this isn’t about taking chances, the whole ‘what might have been’ thing.  I’ve thought about that, yeah, but it’s more important that you understand how much you mean to me, regardless of our relationship status.  Your friendship is enough, and I won’t ever take it for granted.  As long as I’m lucky enough to have you by my side, in _whatever_ capacity, then it’s okay.

“I just - I don’t ever want to lose you, not to any crazy perp, and not because of my attraction to you.”

“Oh god…”

Danny pulled his hand free to scrub across his face.  The fingers of the other hand curled around the fabric of his jeans.

“I’m so sorry, Danny.  I-”

“You are such a fucking moron!  A massive, infuriating, glorious moron!”  His shoulders began to shake, a little at first, but he progressed from quiet chuckles to hysterical laughter, and then to a hitching sob.

“Danno?  What’s wrong?”

“ _What’s wrong_?” he parroted.  “You give me this whole bullshit speech about friendship and then have the nerve to ask me what’s wrong?”

“Um - yes?”

“Idiot!  Come ‘ere.”  Danny seized the collar of Steve’s shirt and yanked him down.  

Steve shut his eyes, believing he was about to get decked in the face, and braced himself for the blow.

Instead, he felt Danny’s lips push against his.

They were gone before he had time to get with the program, and he pouted at the missed opportunity.  

“I’m kinda surprised - and disappointed, if I'm being honest - that _you_ didn’t do that.  I thought you were a ‘show’ kind of guy, not ‘tell’.”  Danny let go of his shirt and leaned back, his arms coming up to lay across the side and back of the sofa.  “I’m in love with you too, by the way - in case you needed to hear it.”

“I - uh - what?”  Steve’s mind felt like it had short-circuited from the shock of this development.  

Danny ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times.  “I’ve never been in love with a guy before,” he confessed softly.  “I mean, I’ve always been interested in both men and women, but I've never acted on the former, never gave it much more than thought.  And I must admit - I was attracted to you from day one.  God, the things I’ve thought about doing to you…”  He openly leered, and Steve felt his neck grow warm.  “But between work, and our respective girlfriends and whatever else, I chose to ignore it.  

“There was a time when we probably could have messed around and been fine going back to being coworkers, but - but that’s not the case anymore.”

Steve’s hope began to dim.  “Are you saying - is it too late?”

“No, I’m saying that if we do this - then as far as I'm concerned, you’re the endgame.”  He looked down at his lap.  “That’s what I was going to tell you that day; that’s the other thing I’ve been struggling with.  See, I had pretty much convinced myself that it was never gonna happen, and that I was fine with that.  But when you almost died on that plane, it was like all the feelings I had buried just exploded.  That one moment - where I thought I didn’t want to live without you - that _scared_ me.  Except for my kids, I never felt that way about _anyone_ \- not with Melissa, and certainly not with Rachel.  And it wasn’t just the thought of trying to cope if you had died; the feeling stayed with me - and got stronger - with you alive.”

He lifted his head.   “The thing is, it’s gone beyond a possibility now.  Being attracted to you, or even loving you - is vastly different from wanting to spend the rest of my life with you.  Do you understand?”

“Um - kinda?”  Steve thought he had been following along okay, but that last statement threw him off.  

Danny sighed again.  “Look, I could never fully commit in my other relationships, but with you, there’s no question that I’d be yours, and you’d be mine for the rest of our lives.  What I’m trying to say is that if we do this, that’ll be it for me.  I don’t mean we need to run off and elope or anything, but if we decide to take this to the next level, we _both_ gotta be all in or not at all.  We need to come to an agreement on whether or not having an intimate relationship is really worth the risk.”

“I understand,” Steve said.  

And he did.  The things that Danny was saying were essentially the same fears that he’d had.  The difference was that, in the event that they tried for something more, and it failed, Steve could be okay with going back to being friends in time, whereas Danny was aware of himself enough to know that he might not be able to do the same.  They both had relationship baggage, but if Danny really felt this strongly about Steve, it would be a long time before he’d recover from a fallout.  After all, it had taken years for him and Rachel to be civil to each other, and their marriage hadn’t lasted as long as Steve and Danny’s friendship.

“So - what now?” asked Steve.

“Now that we’ve both acknowledged that we actually feel the same way about each other, we figure out where we want to go from here.”  Danny stood up and carefully stretched, mindful of his many stitches.  “I think taking some time apart will help bring some clarity to the situation.  I’m pretty fucked up, Steve.  My body and mind needs to heal, though there are some things that will probably stay with me until I die.  

“And you need to figure out how to forgive yourself for this whole Bairaz fiasco.”  He lightly kicked Steve’s leg.  “I know you still blame yourself, Super SEAL, and I don’t know how many ways I can say that it wasn’t your fault before you believe me.  I think you need to come to terms with that on your own.”

Steve got up as well.  “Okay.  If you think that’ll help, I’m willing to try.  But I wish you’d stay.  Or you could let me come with you.  I’ve still never been to Jersey.”

Danny laughed.  “Sorry, babe, but I don’t think any of the east coast airports know the proper protocol for dealing with insane Navy SEALS.  And besides, you’re needed here, Captain America.”

“Oh shit, the play!” Steve exclaimed.  “Are you going to be back in time?  Will you be healed enough?”

“I don’t know - on both counts.  But don’t worry; I’ve spoken with Adrian and we’ve come to an arrangement.  Chin has agreed to take my place as the Winter Soldier.”

“Oh.  I see.”

Danny punched him weakly in the arm.  “Cheer up, McGarrett.  I’ll be back before you know it.  Now, I need to finish packing, but you can stay and hang out if you want.”

“Actually, I should probably head back to the office.  We are WAY behind on paperwork.”

“Suit yourself.”  Danny started to hobble back to the bedroom.

“... Danno, wait.”

His partner paused to glance over his shoulder.  “What?”

Steve went over to him and took his free hand.  “Can I kiss you before I go?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “If you must.  Just one little kiss though.”

Steve grinned and leaned in.

There was nothing elaborate or desperate about the kiss.  It was merely a simple meeting of lips, an intimate gesture that was as much about kindness and empathy as it was about adoration and passion.  Even so, Steve felt every nerve ending in his body begin to tingle, like they were waking from the numbness that came from stagnation.  

But he yearned for more, and when he pulled back, he knew in an instant that one would never be enough.

* * *

_Present Day_

The big day had finally arrived.  By all accounts, this was set to be the Allegra Noelani Foundation’s most successful undertaking.  All of the kids who had participated in creating the production - from Ty Paoa’s writing and coordinating team, down to the youngest children who could only smile and cheer them on - were beyond excited and impatiently waiting for the main event.

While the play’s cast had spent the morning with last minute fittings and running lines, the hospital’s residents and visitors had been kept occupied with other activities, such as trivia games, coloring contests and friendly debates regarding who the best superhero was.

The afternoon’s agenda included the play, a few more games (wherein the children would form teams with their favorite hero and compete for prizes) and then ending with photo ops with the play’s cast and crew.

Steve stood in front of the hospital’s second story family room window and watched the crowd of families gathering in the backlot.  He smoothed down the front of his costume for what was probably the hundredth time and readjusted the shield on his arm.  He had wasted much of the morning sulking and reflecting on all the reasons why Danny wasn’t here to be a part of this, but it was time to set aside his melancholy and loneliness.  The children (and Danny) were counting on him, and any minute now, he and Chin would be called to the ‘stage’ for the first scene of the play.

Chin came up beside him.  Max and Jerry had done well in making adjustments to the Winter Soldier costume; it didn’t fit him as snuggly as it had Danny, but it was suitable enough for this one day.  “You nervous?” he asked.

Steve shook his head.

“Then why the long face?

The SEAL scanned the crowd for Grace and Charlie.  Lou’s wife Renee was supposed to bring them, as well as Samantha, Will and Sara, to the show.  “It’s nothing personal, Chin.  You worked really hard to learn the choreography and memorize the lines, but,” he sighed, “it doesn’t feel right without Danny.”  

“I know what you mean, _brah_.”  He left it at that and looked out as well.  

“I talked to him on the phone last night,” Steve said after a few seconds. “He wanted me to wish everyone good luck.”

Chin smiled and nodded.  “We’ll make him proud.  It’s just too bad he couldn’t be here to watch.  How long has he been gone now?”

“Four weeks,” Steve griped miserably.  “We’ve called each other or skyped almost every night, but…”

“It’s not the same,” Chin finished.  “Believe me, we’re all feeling the effects of his absence.  Who knew the office could be so quiet?”

They laughed.  It was quite true; without Danny around to voice his opinion on everything or yell at Steve for his reckless behavior and questionable interrogation techniques, the Five-0 headquarters had begun to feel more like a public library than a base of operations for a law enforcement task force.

More importantly, each member had discovered just what a significant impact Danny’s presence made on them, both as individuals and the group as a whole.  They each had a role to play within the team’s dynamics, and Danny served as the heart, a glue that bound them all together.

And as for Steve, he had made his choice.  He was ready to move forward.

“Attention everyone!”  

Adrian Paoa entered the room and summoned the costumed cast members to him.  “The children and their families have all been escorted out into the lot and are eager to begin.  Is everyone ready?”

There were nods and cheers all around.  

“Okay, then.  Captain America, Bucky Barnes - you’re up!”

* * *

“I know you distrust him, but he is my friend - my closest companion!  And I will NOT abandon him!”  Steve turned to the crowd, his eyes meeting those of the children gazing up at him in awe.  “In the toughest of times, when we face our greatest trials, we must never lose hope.”  He scanned the area as he spoke his lines, projecting as much confidence as he could.  “And when one is weak, they must draw strength from those they love.”

The play was almost over.  They were nearing the pivotal moment of the production; it was the scene where Captain America made the decision to save Bucky Barnes - at great risk to the country and against the wishes of his superiors within S.H.I.E.L.D. and the other Avengers.  

What was the saying about life imitating art?  Or was it the other way around?

Steve took a few steps forward and lowered his voice a fraction, still loud enough to be heard, but with the fragility that came from remembrance.  “Bucky was always there for me.  He was strong for me, and he loved me, when I was just a frail kid from Brooklyn.  Now it is _my_ turn to be there for _him_.  Whatever demons he must face, no matter if they come from the outside or from within himself, I will stand by him.  I will…”  

He froze.

Standing way in the back beneath the shade of a tree was a familiar silhouette.  At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, that the man in the black t-shirt and dark blue athletic shorts was a figment of his imagination.  There was simply no other explanation.

But then the man came a little closer, out of the shadows cast by the swaying branches overhead, and clear blue eyes blinked up at him.  

Danny grinned, lifted a hand and gave a small wave.

* * *

The cast and crew held hands and bowed as one.  The audience members that were able gave them a standing ovation, but the eyes of everyone in Five-0 were fixed on Danny.

Adrian Paoa thanked them and announced that in ten minutes, the next round of games would begin.  The second he dismissed them, Steve took off to get to his partner, his friends close on his heels.

He was sitting on a blanket beneath the tree with Grace, Charlie, Eric, Sara and Grover’s family.  Kono outran Steve in her excitement to get to him.  

“Danny!”

Everyone stood up as Five-0 and their extended families converged on their area.  Danny barely made it to his feet before Kono was on him.  “Hey, guys.  Woah, Kono!  Easy, easy!”

“I’m so glad you’re here!” she exclaimed.

Before Steve could jump in, Chin took her place, though his hug was much more restrained.  “Welcome back, _brah_!”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were gonna be here, man?” demanded Lou, grinning widely.  He too gave Danny a hug, and then put his arm around his wife.      

Danny shrugged.  “I wanted to surprise you.”

“When did you get in?”  Abby appeared behind Lou, with Max and Jerry trailing her.

“Two days ago.  I needed the first day back to unwind after the long flight.  And yesterday, I was with these two.”  He put an arm around each of his children, both of whom seemed reluctant to let him out of their reach for long.

Then he saw Steve glaring at him impatiently, and Danny winked with a mischievous smile.  “Nothing?  Nothing?  No hug?”

Steve chuckled at the allusion, and repeated the words Danny had said in response to the same questions.  “I am so happy to see you right now - I’ll give you a hug; I’ll give you a kiss.  Pick a base.”

“Give me the hug,” said Danny, without missing a beat.

Steve gathered his friend into his arms - mindful not to hit him with the shield still attached to his arm - and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of him and wishing they weren’t in a public arena.  

As if reading his mind, Danny whispered, “We’ll get to the other bases later.”

“Hey - is that some new ink I see peeking out of your sleeve?” asked Kono.

Danny pulled back a bit.  “Uh, yeah,” he said, a hint of red touching his face.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense!  Let’s see it!” Lou commanded.

Danny wiggled out of Steve’s arms.  Steve whined a little at the loss of contact, though he was just as curious as the others.  Danny hadn’t mentioned anything over any of their phone or skype calls, not once.

Danny rolled up his left sleeve as far as he could and rotated his shoulder forward to show them (Steve noted that his movements were still measured and slow).  Covering the entire area, starting at the top of his deltoid and extending down to the middle of his bicep, was a tattoo of a medieval shoulder guard.  Four short straps, two on either side of the armor, were inked in such a way as to give the appearance of being clipped onto his skin.  The entire thing was completed in a grey scale coloring, with outline edging and strategically placed ovals that looked like welding rivets.  Every detail was exquisitely done; it truly looked as though he were wearing armor made from an iron plate.

But the most striking part of all was the perfect re-creation of Five-0’s signature badge, etched in the center of the guard like a family crest.  The only differences between it and the real thing were the color - it too was black and grey (instead of gold like the actual shield) - and the word _‘Investigator’_ that should have been in the second arch had been replaced with _‘Ohana.’_

“Danny, that’s…” Kono wasn’t sure what to say.

“I wanted something to cover up the boar scar, and I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate,” Danny explained.  He ran his fingers through his hair and shifted self-consciously.  “When I moved here seven years ago, I didn’t have anyone but Grace, and I never imagined I’d learn to like this pineapple-infested hellhole.  But then this jackass Navy SEAL,” he elbowed Steve, “waltzed in and took over my life, and gave me a family in the process.

“It hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, but I stand by what I told you before.  Being a part of Five-0 has been one of the best experiences of my life, and it’s all because of you guys.  We’ve ALL got scars that will never really fade, but - for me anyway - being with all of you makes me forget that they’re there.  And, um, that’s why I decided to go with this design.”

“Wow.  That was beautiful, Danny,” said Abby.

“Yeah, well…”  Danny rubbed the back of his neck.  “So, I’m back, that’s the story, and - and you all still have work to do.”  He inclined his head at the hospital.  “The kids will be lining up for the games and pictures, and I promised mine I’d take them out for ice cream.  I’ll catch up with you guys later, alright?  Maybe do a cookout on the beach tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect,” Chin said.  

Another round of hugs and handshakes ensued, and then the costumed task force returned to their duties.  

Steve was the only one who didn’t move.  He didn’t want to disappoint the children, but he wasn’t eager to leave his partner, now that he had come home.  “Danno…”

Danny leaned in close.  “Six o’clock.  Your place.  Rachel wants me to drop Grace and Charlie off before dinner, and you should be done here by then.”  He kissed Steve on the cheek and whispered, “I’ll see you later, babe.”  His children took his hands and walked with him past Steve towards the parking lot.

The SEAL spun to watch him go.  “Danno!”

Danny paused to look over his shoulder.  “What?”

“I love you.”

Danny smiled. “Love you too, Captain America.  Now go!  Your fans are waiting!”

* * *

Steve was ecstatic to see the black Camaro stationed outside his house.  He increased speed (Danny would be screaming at him for that) and hurried to park the truck in the driveway.  He was in such a rush to see his partner that he left the keys in the ignition, barely remembering to kill the engine, and he didn't bother to grab his bag or the prop shield.

Danny had left the door unlocked for him, and Steve barrelled into the house.  He did not stop to change out of the Captain America costume.  “Danny?” he called.  He heard no reply from any of the rooms, so he headed out to the lanai.  “Danno?” he shouted again.

Just as he thought, Danny was waiting for him in the yard.  Surprisingly, he had kicked off his shoes and was standing ankle-deep in the water.  There was a sense of ease and calm in his stance, evident in the relaxed shoulders and the way he had his hands resting in the pockets of his shorts.

“Danny!”

Danny turned to smile at him.  “Yo.”  He began to make his way towards Steve.

Steve didn’t wait for him.  He sprinted over and hauled him into a tight embrace.  

“Hey, careful, you Neanderthal animal!  There’s no need to manhandle me!  It’s not as if you didn’t just see me like two hours ago!”  Contrary to his protests, Danny returned the hug with equal enthusiasm.  

Steve had missed him so much, had been aching for him throughout the entire separation, that he couldn’t stop at a hug.  After only a few seconds, he readjusted their position to take hold of Danny’s face.  He crashed their mouths together.  

He probably should have given him a little more warning, but Danny didn’t seem to mind.  It only took the space of a heartbeat for him to get with the program and push back.  Each touch of lips and tongue were laced with four weeks of longing and desperation, with an undercurrent of _“I’m sorry”_ and _“I love you so much.”_  Each gasp for air between kisses felt more like a rescue breath, a life-giving affirmation that had been missing while they were apart, reviving them even as it became harder and harder to breathe.

At length, they had no choice but to take a break.  Steve kept them in place, their foreheads pressed together as they panted, and their bodies swayed ever-so-slightly.

“I missed you,” Steve murmured.  His thumbs tenderly traced the line of Danny’s jaw.

“I can tell,” Danny snickered.  “And I missed you too, babe.  But we need to have a conversation before this goes any further.”

Steve pursed his lips in a pout.  “Do we have to?”

“Yes,” said Danny, and Steve knew by his tone that he would not be swayed.  “Come on.”  He took Steve’s hand and pulled him over to the shore in front of the Adirondack chairs.  They remained standing, their fingers stayed entwined, and faced the ocean.

Steve studied Danny as he looked out over the water, apparently lost in thought.  There was no trace of bruising or scarring left on his face, but his bare arms bore stark discoloration from the slashes and punctures.  They were no longer raw or open, but it would be some time before they faded.

Danny had told him a couple days ago that his stab wounds weren’t completely healed yet either.  Most of the stitches had either dissolved or had been removed, but below the surface of the skin, various cells were still in the process of reconstructing everything that had been torn.  He’d begun physical therapy with his old primary physician in Jersey, and he would continue here, but there was much to do - physically and psychologically - before he would be back to active duty.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked.

Danny nodded slowly.  “I’m okay.  I mean - not great, but okay.  I kept up with my therapy sessions over the phone while I was in Jersey, so that’s helped.  I’m still having a lot of nightmares, but I’m starting to sleep a little better.”

“That’s good.”

“Mm-hmm.  And I think - one of the things that’s helped is finally knowing what I want.”  Danny squeezed his hand.

“Yeah?”  Steve grinned.  “Then, are you saying…”

Danny looked up at him and smiled back, but there was a trace of fear in his eyes.  “I love you, Steven.  And if you - I mean, you have to understand that I’ve got a long way to go; there’s a lot I need to sort through, but if you think you can put up with me-”

Steve lifted their joined hands to his lips, and kissed Danny’s fingers.  “There is no _‘putting up’_ with you, Danno.  I love you too, and I want to take the next step.”  He pulled Danny’s arm closer and ducked his head to kiss his wrist.  “I want _everything_ .”  He placed another kiss further up his forearm, tongue darting out to trace a scar.  “I want to _give_ you everything.”  He continued to kiss his way up the limb, pausing to spend extra time on Danny’s new tattoo.

“Hey, slow down there, Gomez!” Danny chided, though he didn’t try to pull his arm away.  In fact, when Steve glanced at his face, he was pleased to see him actually blushing, and the anxiety that had been evident in the tightness of his smile had vanished.  “I’m still on a lot of restrictions; my list of approved physical activities is distressingly short, and will be for at least another week or two.  And - well, I’m not sure I’m ready to…”

Steve pulled him into a gentle hug and rested his chin on Danny’s shoulder.  “Relax, Danno.  There’s no rush; we’ll take it at whatever pace you need.”  He kissed the side of his neck.  “I’ve got your back, babe.  You know that.”

Danny sighed and the tension in his body melted.  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Are you?”  Steve pushed him back enough to see his face.

Danny leaned in and kissed him once, twice - keeping it gentle and sweet.  “Yes,” he whispered at last.

“Good,” agreed Steve, kissing him again.  This was quickly becoming his new favorite pastime.  “Then _Operation McDanno_ is a go.”

Danny dodged another kiss.  “ _Operation McDanno?_ What the hell is that?”

“The op for getting us together.  I’ve been told by the team that it’s how everyone refers to us behind our backs,” said Steve.  

Danny looked incredulous for a moment, but then he burst out laughing.  “McDanno, huh?  Might take some getting used to, but I think I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.  So - uh - I don’t suppose making out on the couch is on your approved list of activities?”

Danny made a show of trying to remember.  “You know, I think it is.  In fact, I’m willing to bet that making out with Captain America would be very good for my health.”  He began to pull Steve towards the house.

“It’s Commander McGarrett,” Steve corrected.  “And while it’s been fun playing with the kids, I will NOT be wearing this again.”

“Really?  That’s too bad.  It’s a good look for you.  Oh, and by the way, you guys really did a great job today.  I can’t thank you enough.”

“No need.  Watching the children have a good time was thanks enough.  However…”  He stopped Danny’s forward movement by wrapping his arms around his waist from behind and nibbling on his neck.  “I MIGHT be persuaded to wear it for special occasions in the future, if you agree to help me take it off afterwards.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Danny complained, but he let out a soft whimper.  “But I’ll keep that in mind.  Just - one thing…”

“What’s that?”

Danny turned in his arms, and his serious expression halted Steve’s wandering hands and lips.  “We leave the shield out of this.”

Steve knew what he meant.  They’d talked about their misgivings and misconceptions over the phone prior to Danny’s return.  Steve had told him about the dream he’d once had, and how sometimes it unnerved him to realize how well Danny knew him.  He was ingrained into Steve’s whole existence, and should Danny so choose, he had all the ammunition he needed to destroy Steve utterly.  

There had been many difficult discussions, and a few arguments, but it was well worth the discomfort to come to a place of mutual understanding.  They realized that it really was okay for them to let their guards down with one another.  In fact, there was no safer place either of them could ever be.

“Okay, Danno.”

“Good.  Now come on, Super SEAL.  We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to once again thank you to [OnlyHim](https://whenamarshmallowmeetsahothead.tumblr.com/) and emeraldteal for beta-reading. This story would not have been possible without you.
> 
> And another special thank you [Ms. Three](http://ms-three.tumblr.com/) for the beautiful artwork. You are a joy to work with!
> 
> And thank you all for reading! I'd love for you to check out my other works, and feel free to stop by my [Tumblr](https://embracetheshipping.tumblr.com/) to say hi!


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